Fate is Futile
by Battle Fries
Summary: The war between man and machine is turned on its head when an ex-Borg drone is thrown into the fray. This story will mostly focus on Seven of Nine, but everyone will play an important part. Minor crossover with DS9 relaunch. *NEW CHAPTER 04/23/2012*
1. Prologue

Prologue

* * *

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA; MARCH 13, 2009

Cameron woke up. She didn't understand this at first, since as she constantly reminded John, Sarah, and Derek, she didn't sleep. But some part of her, some dormant line of code, had just surfaced. The sensation most resembled her reactivation after the car bomb, when she had tried to terminate John's life. This was similar, but it wasn't compelling her to any sort of action. To be safe, she ran a complete diagnostic of her CPU.

The line of code was there, but it was in a language she didn't recognize. Circles with different-shaped segments omitted; seven of them. She attempted a translation protocol, but it corresponded to no known language or code that she was aware of. It was glaring at her constantly from her HUD in an ominous shade of green.

Cameron woke up again. She had been so invested in her self-maintenance that she only now realized that she was standing in the middle of the street, in the middle of the city. Her internal chronometer indicated she had been walking for two hours and seventeen minutes.

Cameron didn't sleep, but she had just sleepwalked. Her mission priority reasserted itself: Protect John Connor. It was a deliberate choice, to protect him. She had chosen not to terminate him when he had given her the option almost a year ago. The prospect of having options was unsettling. Options indicated a lack of certainty. Cameron didn't like being uncertain.

But she was certain now. She would return to the safe house and report these anomalous behaviors to the Connors immediately. The safest option would be to terminate Cameron. It was not a preferable option, but it was the optimal one. That was what mattered.

* * *

"So let me get this straight, Cam. You not only slept, but you sleepwalked?" John said.

"Yes. I was unaware of my surroundings for over two hours, during which I moved without being consciously aware of that action. This immediately followed an anomalous line of code spontaneously activating."

"Wait, what? What kind of code are we talking about here?" Sarah asked. More proof that the machine couldn't be trusted. It couldn't even trust itself.

"The code consists of seven characters of an unknown language in a green font."

Derek shook his head. "And green is significant, why?"

"Because my HUD is only equipped to display green when an object I see is actually green. All lettering appears in blue, red, or black. I have never seen green letters before."

John was confused. "So, is this code dangerous? I mean, you haven't tried to kill us or anything."

"For all we know, it could be a very simple seven letter word that's a command." Sarah knew this new code was bad news, whatever it was. Why couldn't John see the danger right in front of him?

_Because he doesn't see it as a machine_, said a voice in the back of Sarah's head. For a moment she asked herself what else he could possibly see it as, but the answer was all too obvious, and she didn't want to think about it.

"I agree. There are several commands that this code could be. Why it hasn't resolved into a comprehensible language yet is unknown. But the risk is too great. You must terminate me."

Sarah just blinked. "What? You _want_us to kill you?"

John shook his head vigorously. "No. No way in hell. You chose not to kill me once; you can choose to ignore this code if you want to as well."

Derek was grinning like an idiot. "No, we won't kill her. Because you're not a her, are you? You can't be killed since you're not alive. And for once, I agree with the machine. We _terminate_it."

"Derek, you are not helping," John growled.

The conversation was interrupted by a knocking at the door.

They all stopped talking and armed themselves. Sarah went to answer the door, and elected to open it all the way, rather than let the chain catch it part way. Best not to seem suspicious; it wouldn't stop a terminator, anyway.

Sarah found herself face to face with a rather tall figure dressed in a trench coat, wearing dark gloves and boots. Neatly groomed blonde hair adorned the figure's head like a dome, but the eyes were covered by abnormally large sunglasses. The appearance was almost comical.

But then a sultry female voice asked in a level tone, "Sarah Connor?"

"Terminator!" Sarah shouted as she pulled her gun out and opened fire, and was soon joined by John and Derek. Cameron was moving forward to engage hand to hand.

Sarah didn't expect the bullets to do any real damage. She also did not expect a green light to shimmer in front of the machine, acting like an invisible wall, stopping the bullets in their tracks.

Sarah fell back to let the two machines fight it out, but oddly enough, no sounds of fighting came. Cameron just stood there as the other machine removed its sunglasses.

"Cameron, what are you doing?" John shouted.

"It's all right," Cameron said. How this could possibly be 'all right,' Sarah did not know. That line of code must have made been designed to make her docile for the enemy.

"She's not a machine," Cameron said.

"Correction," said the other machine. "I am _mostly_not a machine." It stepped into the house in plain view, and now Sarah saw why it was wearing such large sunglasses.

The thing was beautiful, or at least it imitated beauty. It had a picturesque female face with piercing blue eyes and only the tiniest of wrinkles around them. It gave itself away quite spectacularly by the semicircle of black metal around its left eye.

"I apologize for surprising you. However, I require your assistance, and for that, I needed to locate you. And so I apologize for activating the code that allowed me to lure Cameron to me so that I might follow her back here."

"I… You… What?" This made no sense. Machines didn't apologize. Nor did they do half-assed jobs of disguising their true nature. "What are you?" Sarah blurted out.

"My designation," the woman/machine said before pausing, as if she had made a mistake. "My name," she said with emphasis, "is Seven of Nine. And I am here to help you stop Skynet; whether you want my help or not."

* * *

Seven looked at the shocked faces, and hoped they wouldn't waste any more ammunition. She also hoped that Cameron would not choose to engage her in combat, as Seven was doubtful of her ability to dissuade her from such a course if she felt it necessary.

"May I come in?" asked Seven calmly. Nobody answered. "Please?" she added.

Finally, after a very length pause, the boy who had to be John Connor spoke up. "Sure," though he didn't sound very sure. "Come in."

"John!" his mother reprimanded immediately. "Do I need to even explain why that is a bad idea?"

"Look, mom, if she wanted us dead, then she would probably be locked in combat with Cameron right now."

"And if I ever fought Cameron," Seven interrupted, "I would lose. My skeleton is bone, not titanium or coltan."

"Threat assessment is not minimal, but still well within acceptable parameters," Cameron said, most likely in an attempt to reassure the Connors.

John seemed more than willing to take her word for it, which gave Seven hope. His mother, on the other hand, seemed ready to shoot at her again. And the other man, who Seven did not recognize, also looked murderous. Seven was beginning to understand how John Connor became the man she knew from the future.

Seven had still not moved from the door, and the others, it seemed, were looking at her expectantly. "I have no desire for conflict. I will not enter without your permission," she said in a somewhat softer voice, though it took some effort to do so. Seven was not typically a soft individual.

Sarah scowled and jerked her gun to indicate that Seven should move inside. "Get in, but if you try anything," she threatened.

"You will shoot at me again? And watch your bullets bounce away from me before they touch my body? I have no love for Skynet, and thus I do not wish you to waste your ammunition in such a futile gesture. For my part, I will try not to provoke one."

"Glad we cleared that up," the scruffy-looking man said without humor.

Seven walked inside and took in the house. It was comfortable, but there were boxes in various states of being packed - or possibly unpacked). It was good that Seven had caught them when she had, where she had.

"Now, then," Sarah said impatiently, "who are you, and what, exactly, are you doing here?"

Seven breathed a heavy breath, but did not look to take a seat. If anything, she stood up straighter. "That is a long story, but it is one that you must know. Put your weapons away, and I will tell you everything."

* * *

I do not own Terminator or Star Trek or any of the characters from either franchise.

Feedback is welcome and appreciated.

I hope you all enjoy this story. :)


	2. Laying a First Stone

Chapter I: Laying a First Stone

* * *

_USS VOYAGER_ – 2378

They had finally made it. _Voyager_ had made it back to the Alpha Quadrant, and was now maintaining orbit above Earth itself. Everyone was excited to be home at last. Well, almost everyone. While the Starfleet officers, and the Maquis who had joined their ranks, were being debriefed, and while technicians were combing the ship to take apart all of the Borg and temporally-displaced technologies, two civilians sat alone in the mess hall, playing a game of Kadis-kot.

Seven of Nine's attention was not truly on the game, however. "Naomi Wildman," she began, "what do you intend to do when you return to Earth?"

The six year old girl seemed distracted as well. "I dunno. I guess mom and I will go live with my dad. I'm kind of scared, though. I mean, I'm sure he loves me, but I don't know him. I wish Neelix was here with us."

Seven's lips curled up in a tiny smile, which for the ex-drone spoke volumes. "He was certainly a unique personality," Seven conceded. She had tried humoring the Talaxian when he inevitably barged into her life, but their natures were too different to form a cohesive bond. Still, he had never seemed to look at her with anything other than respect for a fellow individual. Whatever his eccentricities, she would miss that about him.

"I wish I could stay on Voyager with you and Captain Janeway and everyone else," said Naomi. "Mom keeps telling me that Earth is our home, but it doesn't feel like _my_ home."

"Yes," Seven agreed. "I have no memories of Earth, either. And I won't be staying on _Voyager_. Starfleet will not allow it." She scowled. "Captain Janeway has informed me that there have been inquiries from Starfleet Security and Starfleet Intelligence about the possibility of handing me over to their custody."

"Why's that?" said Naomi, suddenly looking scared. The kadis-kot board was now totally forgotten. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I was a Borg drone for eighteen years. For some people, that is enough." Seven looked at Naomi and saw that the girl looked rather frightened. This was not a positive development.

"Can I tell you a secret, Naomi?" asked Seven. The words were not natural for her, but she had phrased the sentence with Naomi's young mind in her thoughts. Seven leaned in close across the table after Naomi had nodded her approval. "Of all the people on _Voyager_, I feel safest with you."

Naomi looked surprised, but not unhappy. "Me? Not Captain Janeway? Or Tuvok?"

"Tuvok is a man of logic, and he is a good man," Seven conceded. "But being Vulcan, he cannot understand what it is to have emotions that are not suppressed. And as for Captain Janeway," said Seven, a scowl forming on her lips, "she has been a mentor to me in many ways, but she has always seen a certain path for me. She sees the universe in narrow terms, and she expects me, and everyone else, to conform to her notions of how things should and should not be.

"But you, Naomi Wildman, you have never asked me to be anything but what I am You have not been afraid of me because I was Borg, but you still recognized that a part of me was, and still is Borg in some ways. You accept me, Naomi, for who and what I am. And I will miss you more than I will anyone else."

Naomi said nothing for a moment, but after a short while, she got up from her seat and walked over to give Seven a hug. Seven had not expected an attempt at emotional comforting; she had merely been speaking the truth as she saw it. Still, the gesture, coming from Naomi, was significant, so Seven awkwardly wrapped her arms around the small girl, hoping to provide her with some level of comfort as well.

After another hour or so of simply keeping each other company, Ensign Wildman came to pick up her daughter, leaving Seven of Nine alone with her thoughts. Try as she might, she couldn't figure out what to do with her life from now on. She was confident in Captain Janeway's ability to secure her freedom, though she privately believed the Captain would do so more to prove that she had been right to forcibly remove Seven from the Collective. A part of her had never forgiven Janeway for taking her away from the only community she had known, by force, against her express wishes at the time, until eventually, Seven was content with her lot.

She had never quite forgiven Janeway for assimilating her.

Each of the crew had been granted some time to communicate with their families now that they were back and able to transmit messages without any time limits. Seven had politely and, as kindly as she could, declined her Aunt Irene's invitation to stay with her. It was tempting in a way, but it was also a link to the Hansens. Seven of Nine had had her birth name taken from her, and even when she had regained her individuality, she was simply not Annika Hansen anymore. For the rest of her life, she would be Seven of Nine.

What family did she have now? Magnus and Erin Hansen were worse than dead; Unimatrix 01 was thankfully far away and no longer a part of her life. And _Voyager_ and its crew would soon be gone as well, off to serve the Federation in a time of need. She could try to return to her romance with Commander Chakotay, but in retrospect, that had been a flawed prospect from the outset. The commander had beliefs and convictions that were strong, but he had little visible personality. It had seemed to her to be a 'safe' way to attempt a romantic relationship.

The only other person who came close to being remotely compatible was the Doctor. Besides the Captain, he had been Seven's other great mentor, and he had allowed himself to see Seven in ways that the Captain never would (quite possibly in ways she never could). But the Doctor's heartfelt profession of love, just before he thought he would be decompiled and forever lost, had intimidated Seven on a level she had not thought possible. Love was an almost unstoppable force, and reflecting on her own personality, Seven of Nine supposed she was close to the immovable object that would always counter it.

Or at least, that was what she wanted to be. The prospect of emotion, her own or another's, coming on in such force was frightening. Seven hadn't truly _felt_ emotion nearly that strongly in her life, and the prospect of it was paradoxically terrifying.

Perhaps it was best that the crew would be kept busy in the near future. Though two years had since passed, the long war with the Dominion had left several scars across the quadrant. _Voyager_ and her crew would no doubt be called upon to assist in the rebuilding efforts. But Seven was not a Starfleet officer, and Captain Janeway now answered to others who had made clear that they did not approve of a Borg drone serving aboard a Starfleet vessel. It didn't seem to matter that Seven had not been a drone for four years.

But Seven could not be idle; it wasn't in her nature. Even as a civilian, she could help with the rebuilding efforts; help to heal the damage from the war. Cardassia had suffered the worst of it, and it disturbed Seven to see that some of the Bajoran crew members were saying, in so many words, 'good riddance.'

Not all Cardassians could be held responsible for the crimes of the military. That was like saying that each Borg drone was responsible for the actions that the Collective forced them to do. Seven felt a bond with the nameless Cardassian civilians who were no doubt feeling as though they were reaping what others had sewn during the Bajoran Occupation.

Bajor… Seven's thoughts drifted once more back to Unimatrix 01, and the three former drones she had met two years after joining _Voyager_. Three of Nine had been a Bajoran woman named Marika Wilkarah. Seven had forced upon her and the two others a mental link that bound their thoughts together in a three-way collective. At the time, Seven had had all the emotional stability of a six year old girl who had just been cut off from any source of comfort, and had resorted to drastic measures to regain the stability that the Borg had offered. She had condemned Marika to a traumatic life that would thankfully end with Marika liberated from the Collective, secure and alone in her own mind, living out her last days on _Voyager._

Marika had told Seven that while she couldn't forgive her, she could understand why she had done what she had done. And before she had died, she had asked one final thing of Seven, and Seven had not felt the right to refuse. They had used the replicator to create a duplicate of Marika's earring. It was not a perfect replica, but it was sufficient for her to feel connected to her gods once again. Her last request had been for the earring to be given to her parents, along with the knowledge that she had died a free woman. Seven would have understood if she had asked anyone else at all to do the deed, but Seven had known her best, on a level that no other person could possibly comprehend.

Seven of Nine still had that earring, and she while she didn't know what the future held for her, she at least had a first step laid out in front of her. She would go to Bajor, and for the first time in her life, Seven of Nine considered the prospect of prayer.

* * *

I own not a thing. Reviews are very much appreciated. Hope you enjoy my story!


	3. What's In a Name?

Chapter II: What's In a Name?

* * *

SAN FRANCISCO – 2378

"You are certain the device will function properly?" asked Seven of Nine.

"Of course; I made sure to design it with longevity and _efficiency _in mind," said the Doctor with pride.

Seven allowed a tiny smile at the Doctor's teasing, but felt a great deal more gratitude than she let on. With _Voyager's_ Cargo Bay Two being dismantled and purged of all Borg technology, Seven had no way to regenerate her Borg implants anymore, without which she would die after no more than a couple of weeks. Thankfully, the Doctor had managed to not only solve that problem, but to create a portable solution.

"Thank you, Doctor. I owe you my life." Seven paused, feeling uncertain. "I do not understand why I said that. It was obvious; a definite fact. It did not need to be said." She looked up at the Doctor, looking him in the eye. "I engaged in non-essential dialogue," she said with mounting surprise.

For his part, the Doctor merely gave her a patient smile. "For one thing, I'm a doctor; saving lives is what I do. For another, you are my friend, and I would gladly help you in any way I could, even if my programming was not designed for it. As for 'non-essential' dialogue, and for that matter, non-essential anything," said the Doctor with an even warmer smile, "I think you'll find it, as unusual as it may seem, a very essential aspect of your own humanity. I'm truly proud of you, Seven."

"Thank you, Doctor. I am grateful for your help, and for your friendship. I do not believe I would have been able to perform my duties on _Voyager _sufficiently without your guidance." She paused again. "This is difficult," said Seven. "I have accepted that I will probably not see you in person ever again, but I cannot find the words to terminate this conversation."

The Doctor then did something unexpected. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Seven. It was strange, feeling the same sensation that Naomi Wildman had offered, but at a comparable height. It was easier to wrap her arms around him, and to let her head rest on his shoulder.

Neither one of them said anything for a fair amount of time. Neither of them checked their internal chronometers to determine how much time had passed. Finally, after what felt simultaneously too long and not long enough, they both broke off the embrace.

"Goodbye, Seven of Nine," said the Doctor.

"Goodbye, Doctor," said Seven. They had both said what they had needed to say, dragging it out longer would only make things more difficult. Seven picked up the briefcase that housed her portable regeneration unit and left the Doctor's office, forcing herself not to look back once.

* * *

The line to board the transport was not terribly long, but neither was it short. Since Bajor had joined the Federation approximately one year ago, it had become a popular destination for academics, artists, students, tourists, and all kinds of other visitors from any number of worlds. Not only that, but it was the regional center for all efforts towards the rebuilding of Cardassia.

No longer serving aboard a starship, Seven had felt free to replicate garments for herself that were not nearly as constrictive as her biosuits had been. If she was honest with herself, Seven of Nine would have forgone clothing altogether, as its protection from the elements and disease was minimal compared to more modern technologies, not the least of which the Borg implants still within her own body.

Still, a loose fitting blue shirt, blue pants and black traveling coat allowed her the appearance of normalcy while still allowing her skin enough room to breathe. The clothing vendor had tried to sell her gloves and sunglasses, but Seven had seen no need for either. Her vision was beyond that of any normal human, and her hands did not require an additional sheath for warmth.

But the stares that came her way as she stood in line for the transport told her that practicality was not what the clothing vendor had had in mind. The stares were discomforting enough, and what was more disconcerting was that Seven realized that she had had people stare at her like this before, when she first came aboard _Voyager_. Back then, she hadn't yet developed enough as an individual to care what anyone else thought of her.

But now, Seven wasn't quite so naïve. She knew better, now, what these people were thinking. Once upon a time, Seven would have welcomed the sight of another Borg, but now, the prospect of facing another drone was terrifying. Even though she was mostly human, it didn't seem to be enough.

After the stares had no visible effect, the taunts began. "Drone," they said, "go back to your hive." "Stay away from us, machine!" "Keep away from our children, you monster!" It didn't seem to matter that Seven was simply standing in line, waiting to board a transport.

Seven hoped that if she simply ignored the angry voices, and kept her head held high, looking forward, they would give up and leave her be. But she had underestimated their hatred for all things Borg, and only now did she appreciate just how much discipline Starfleet ingrained into its officers and enlistees. They had their duty to channel their feelings; many of these civilians had no such focus for their emotions, Seven realized.

A paper cup bounced off her head, and a small amount of carbonated water doused her tightly-bound blonde hair. Still, Seven did not move. An umbrella jabbed into her abdomen, which was covered with a tight band of metal that very much restricted Seven's capacity for upper body flexibility. This handicap, however, only further enraged the quickly-growing mob. "Metal," the owner of the umbrella growled, and he threw a punch at Seven.

Seven dodged the blow easily, but a moment later, she was wondering if she shouldn't have taken it. More solid objects were now being thrown at her, and the line was dispersing to form a circle around her. Some of the onlookers weren't even angry, but simply fascinated by Seven's misfortune.

"Stop this assault at once," demanded Seven in her characteristic monotone, albeit with a raised voice. She had done nothing to warrant this treatment, and she wondered why the spaceport's security was doing nothing to stop it. That is, until she saw a uniformed woman throw the contents of her coffee mug onto Seven, scalding her right, unmarred hand, eliciting a cry of pain from Seven. This only egged the mob on further, it seemed, and while Seven crouched down on the ground, the mob seemed to close in on her further.

Seven was terrified. She had never truly realized how lucky she had had it on Voyager. Even the worst of her critics there gave her at least a façade of civility. Now, she wondered if she would make it out of this circle alive.

Seven was kicked and kneed and punched by how many people, she couldn't tell. Instinctively, she curled up into a fetal position to try and protect herself from the worst of it.

Seven didn't hear the phaser fire. She didn't hear the Starfleet security team telling the crowd to disperse. She didn't notice when the physical assault had stopped, since the screaming and the insults were still so loud.

"Are you all right, young lady?" said a deep and compassionate male voice. Seven did notice now, but she didn't look up. "They're gone," said another voice, this one female; it sounded younger. "We were planning to be in line, but when we found a mob, we dragged Starfleet out of bed; seems that the local security was caught up in the anger."

"Come on, now. It'll all be fine," said the male voice again. Seven looked up and saw an elderly man with dark skin, and a middle-aged woman who bore a definite familial resemblance. Their eyes widened when they saw her ocular implant, but they did not recoil. "So that's what it was all about," said the elderly man. "I'm sure there's a fine story behind all that, but it can wait. Were you heading to Bajor as well?"

Seven wasn't sure who these two people were, but even if they weren't looking past her Borg implants, they were at the very least accepting them. "Thank you for your help," replied Seven in as calm a voice as she could muster. "I do not believe I would have survived without your intervention. And yes, I intend to go to Bajor. I made a promise," she said. Somehow, it felt important for her to get that point across.

The man nodded. "I can't say I understand, but I'd like to. My grandson got married a few months ago, and I've run out of excuses not to go and meet my granddaughter-in-law." He held out his hand, and Seven took it, and rose to her feet. "I'm Joseph; Joseph Sisko, and this is my daughter, Judith."

"Please, call me Judy," said the woman kindly. Seven looked from face to face for a few moments, and then nodded understanding.

"It is good to meet you," said Seven carefully, but she meant it more than her voice indicated. "My designation is Seven of Nine," she introduced herself.

"Don't you have a name?" asked Joseph, though he said it without any malice or anger. It almost sounded like compassion.

Seven considered. "I was assimilated when I was six years old. I haven't used my birth name since then."

Judy placed a hand on Seven's shoulder. "Then maybe 'Seven of Nine' _is_ your name now. Or do you go by something else?"

Seven took a small step backwards. Names had always seemed like a foreign concept to her. A name was an identifier that made one unique, an individual. "That possibility has never occurred to me before."

"Well," said Joseph in a mockingly-stern tone, "has it now?"

Seven nodded almost imperceptibly, but then looked up, and now she did smile. "My _name_," she said with certainty, "is Seven of Nine. But you may call me 'Seven.'" It felt right, somehow. She couldn't explain it, but it just felt proper. She even felt her lips curving up into a tiny smile.

"Well, then, Seven," said Joseph, "it's a long ride to Bajor, and as long as we're both heading there, I think I ought to introduce you to my son, Benjamin, when we get there. I believe the of you two will have a great deal to talk about."

* * *

Just to note: I am taking into account the events of the DS9 relaunch up through 'The Soul Key.' Most likely, I will only touch on a very few characters from that series, and barely any of the overall plot; this is just a continuity note. Also, none of the Voyager relaunch novels should be taken into account, nor should Nemesis. Janeway is not an admiral, and the events of Star Trek: Destiny have NOT occurred.

Have I said I own nothing? I think I have.

Thanks in advance for any feedback! ^_^


	4. Food For Thought

Chapter III: Food for Thought

* * *

DAHKUR PROVINCE; BAJOR – 2378

Seven stood outside the Marika household, looking down at the elderly man who had answered the door chime. "May I help you?" he asked.

Seven nodded a bit too quickly. "I hope so. Are you Marika Faran?" she asked.

"Yes, I sure am," he said jovially. "And who might you be, young lady?" He either had poor eyesight, or else he didn't know much about the Borg, deduced Seven.

"My name is Seven of Nine. I have news about your daughter, Wilkarah." And now, he would put the pieces together, and he would likely react with rage.

The elder Marika's eyes did narrow a bit. "You're a Borg?" he said more harshly. "No," he said a moment later, "but you used to be, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did," said Seven quietly. "I was close to your daughter while we were both Borg," she said carefully. "But she was also liberated from the Collective."

Faran's took a sharp breath, and he took a step back. "My daughter is alive? Where is she? Wilkarah! Wilkarah, are you there?" he asked, groping about with his hands. Seven guessed he was at least partially blind.

"I am afraid not," said Seven. "The events that set her free from the Borg also reduced her life span. She died approximately two years ago, on a Federation starship, in the company of fellow Bajorans. Her _pagh_ was her own."

Seven reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the precious cargo she had brought from the Delta Quadrant. "Her original earring was lost, but at her instructions, we reproduced it as faithfully as possible. Her final wish was for it to be returned to you, and she wanted you to know that she was at peace with herself." The words sounded oddly muted to Seven's own ears. She knew what she was saying, but it sounded distant, like it was someone else speaking.

With trembling hands, Marika Faran took the proffered earring and felt it carefully in his hands. "Wilkarah," he whispered. He fondled the earring carefully, as if his daughter's soul resided within. Perhaps, Seven thought, he actually believed it did.

The Bajoran man headed back inside, seemingly forgetting about Seven completely. Seven wasn't sure whether he was content with the knowledge she had given him or whether he was in torment over it. But she was certain that she was not the proper person to offer him any sort of comfort. Silently nodding farewell to the Marika household, Seven walked back down the road, where her traveling companions were waiting to take her to dinner.

* * *

KENDRA VALLEY; KENDRA PROVINCE; BAJOR – 2378

The air was cool and breezy, and it felt good on Seven's skin as she walked alongside the two Siskos on the way to what they simply called 'the house.' Why the residence did not have a name or number to differentiate it from any other dwelling, Seven did not know, but she intuited that it had a personal significance to the Sisko family.

Seven was silently enjoying the chance to stretch her legs, Judith kept inquiring after her father's health, and Joseph kept insisting that he was not yet so old and feeble that he needed a ride just to walk a few kilometers. The verbal sparring between the father and daughter seemed almost ritualistic, as neither of them seemed to take the slightest offense at the often colorful language employed in their seemingly vain efforts at persuading one another.

'The house' was soon visible on the horizon. A simple one-story building, it looked like something out of a vague memory that Seven couldn't quite place. While she didn't understand why the image provoked a memory, the feeling associated with it was pleasant and comfortable; a feeling of safety.

They didn't have to knock on the door at all; a dark-skinned woman was already at the door to welcome them. "Joseph! Judy!" she welcomed, embracing them both warmly. "Ben's in the kitchen, and Jake and Korena haven't arrived just yet. Please, come in!" Seven assumed that this must be Kasidy Yates, Benjamin Sisko's second wife. Judy had told her that his first wife, Jennifer, was killed during the Battle of Wolf 359: a slaughter of over eleven thousand Starfleet officers, enlistees, and Federation civilians by a single Borg cube.

The two other visitors stepped aside, and Joseph gestured for Seven to step forward. "Kasidy, I'd like you to meet a new friend of ours. This is Seven of Nine."

Seven inclined her head and extended her right hand to Kasidy. "It is good to meet you, Miss Yates." In truth, Seven was not at all sure of herself. Coming to this dwelling – to meet a victim of Wolf 359 – was not something she felt she could prepare herself for in advance.

Kasidy took her hand, but Seven noticed that she wasn't quite looking her in the eye, and also kept her gaze away from her left hand, which rested at her side. "It's good to meet you too, Miss Nine."

Seven arched a quizzical eyebrow, but said nothing. She had never been called 'Miss' anything, and had never considered the prospect of having a surname. "I would feel more comfortable if you would call me 'Seven,' please," she said quietly, still feeling uncomfortable.

Kasidy looked rather embarrassed for some reason, but she quickly recovered with a warmer smile than she had at first. "All right, Seven. Please, come in, all of you. Jake and Korena should be here soon, so let's not keep the door blocked."

Joseph and Judy stepped inside first, but Seven remained outside, feeling uneasy about stepping into the house. "Is something wrong?" Kasidy asked with a hint of what might have been actual concern, but after the mob at the San Francisco spaceport, Seven doubted that.

"I am not sure why I am here," Seven admitted. "I was informed of Captain Sisko's loss at Wolf 359, and I am apprehensive about meeting him. I do not feel entitled to enter your home." Why did human social interactions have to be so difficult? Or was it just because she had been Borg? "I apologize for disturbing you," Seven said. "I should leave. I do not want to cause your family any more distress. I am sorry," she said a bit quicker than she normally would, and turned to leave.

A surprisingly strong hand enclosed itself around Seven's upper arm. "I'm sorry," Kasidy said immediately. "Please, don't leave. Joseph called ahead and told us you were coming. It's just that being told about a person is different than actually coming face to face with…" Kasidy covered her mouth as she realized what she had been about to say.

Seven did not miss it. "You were not prepared for the sight of Borg technology. I understand. The Borg are terrifying," said Seven, and she realized that it was true; Seven might have once wanted to rejoin the Collective, but now it represented her worst fears. "As a former drone, it is not surprising that you would feel fear and hatred towards me." There was no accusation in Seven's voice, just a simple statement of fact.

Kasidy nodded slightly her hand still over her mouth. She finally let it down and took a tentative step forward. "I'm sorry," she said again. "I didn't mean… It must be so hard to face that kind of reaction. You didn't deserve it." Kasidy breathed in and stood up straighter, and now she did look Seven in the eye. "You are our guest, and it is my pleasure to welcome you to our home. And if I can presume so much, I think you will soon enjoy the best meal of your life."

* * *

Three hours and a generous helping of jambalaya later, Seven was forced to concede that the meal had, in fact, been the best she had ever had. On _Voyager_, the only food apart from the replicator had been Neelix's dreadful excuse for cooking. Seven had dabbled in the culinary arts briefly, but tonight, all delusions of her mastery of food had been dissolved. Benjamin Sisko was, if nothing else, an excellent chef.

Jake Sisko and his wife, Azeni Korena, were both amiable and lively people, and both of them were kind enough not to even flinch at her appearance. Jake had even provoked a playful punch from his wife as he had kissed the back of Seven's hand with a compliment on her beauty. Feeling a bit more comfortable, Seven had jokingly suggested that Korena punch him again, just to be safe.

After the initial shock of meeting Kasidy Yates, the Siskos had proven to be exceedingly gracious hosts, with plenty of stories to tell. Jake was aspiring to become a published author, and he asked Seven for details about her time aboard _Voyager_, which she was more than willing to share. The others offered follow-up questions, but they all seemed to skate around any topic that had anything to do with the Borg.

Aside from the meal, however, Seven had no true idea of what to expect from Benjamin Sisko. He had remained mostly silent, and when he did talk, it was in a calm and soothing tone. There was no rage, suppressed or otherwise, that she could detect. Still, Seven was not looking forward to being alone with him.

Finally, the evening was at an end. Jake and Korena headed back to the local transporter facility to head back home, and Joseph and Judy headed to guest bedrooms. Kasidy got up from the table as well. "I'll go check up on Rebecca, okay?" Seven recalled being 'introduced' to Captain Sisko's infant daughter earlier that evening.

"All right," said Captain Sisko; a large white smile on his face contrasted greatly against his dark skin. After a brief kiss, Kasidy left, leaving Seven alone with Captain Sisko, each looking at each other across a simple but neat wooden table.

"So, how did you enjoy the meal, Seven?" asked Sisko enthusiastically.

"It was powerful," said Seven. "I have never tasted anything so strong before. _Voyager's_ chef was almost universally loved, but his cooking was almost as universally despised. Most of my nutritional needs came from specially prepared combinations of enzymes and proteins essential for my physical well-being."

"Sounds rather dull," said Sisko with a grin.

"It was sufficient," said Seven. "But I have learned that an important part of being human is not settling for what is merely adequate."

"The pursuit of perfection," said Sisko with a more solemn grin.

Seven looked up, eyes widening a bit at this comparison to the Borg. "An interesting observation, Captain," she noted.

"Please, call me Ben," he said warmly, waving away the formality casually with one hand.

"Very well, Ben," said Seven. "I confess that I am unsure as to why I am here."

"What, a finely-made home cooked meal isn't good enough?" said Ben with laughing eyes.

Seven felt reassured, and she let her lips curve upward a bit. "Your father told me he thought we could learn something from each other, but I do not understand," she admitted. "I am surprised that you did not expel me from your home when you saw me. I am grateful that you did not, though I do not know why."

Sisko looked pensive, but leaned forward and looked Seven in the eyes. "A long time ago, I might have taken a swing at you, Seven. But Jude told me what happened at the spaceport in San Francisco. And it made me start thinking, 'What if there were more former drones out there? What would life be like for them?'"

"When a drone is cut off from the Collective," Seven said tentatively, "It is terrifying at first. You are accustomed to hearing trillions of voices in your mind, and when those voices are suddenly silenced, the isolation is horrible. Relying on other individuals – communicating with words and not thoughts – takes a great deal of time and effort to become comfortable with."

"Hmm," said Sisko thoughtfully. "Linguistic communication can be tiresome for those who aren't used to it." There was something he wasn't saying, Seven thought, but he clearly understood her better than she had previously realized.

"But even after being an individual for four years, with a vast majority of my Borg implants removed, to be faced with so much hatred was a situation I had not anticipated. In retrospect, I probably should have," said Seven.

"Couldn't you have defended yourself?" asked Sisko gently. "Couldn't you have fought back?"

Seven shook her head. "Doing so would have only validated the mob's preconceptions that I meant them harm. It would have accomplished nothing."

"Well, from what I can tell, you are no threat to anyone, Seven of Nine. But you won't always have someone to rescue you. Sometimes, the only way to make a true threat go away is to fight it. Even if the odds seem insurmountable, giving up can't be an option."

Seven nodded with understanding. "You are telling me to refuse the notion that resistance is futile," she concluded.

"Yes, exactly," said Sisko softly.

"But it is not just my physical appearance that makes me seem Borg, even to myself. My personality and my vocal inflections are a result of my experiences as a drone. I do not remember my life prior to being assimilated. I am still young," she said, surprised at the realization that she knew to be true, despite the seeming ridiculousness of it.

"Does it ever feel confusing? To know so much about the galaxy, but so little about being human? Does it ever seem…?"

"Paradoxical," agreed Seven, intuiting that that was what Sisko had intended to say. "I feel as though I am two separate individuals, at times. I am a logical, methodical scientist, but I am also a human who doesn't quite understand what that means. I have tried to balance these aspects of myself, but it doesn't make sense." The realization of all this was very frustrating. These feelings had always been there, just beneath the surface, but never voiced. Saying them for the first time was almost like experiencing it for the first time, and Seven winced and bowed her head silently, feeling small and weak.

A warm hand lifted her chin up, and she opened her pale blue eyes to look into dark brown ones that offered her warmth and compassion. "When I first took command of Deep Space Nine, years ago, I was at a point in my life where I was stuck. I wasn't moving forward; I was stuck in the past. But then, everything changed."

Seven felt as though something important was about to happen, though what it was, she could not say. "What changed it?" she asked with a touch of anxiety.

Sisko took a napkin and wiped a tear from Seven's cheek that she hadn't known was there. "Tomorrow, we will go to the temple in Ashalla, and you can see for yourself."

* * *

I apologize if the use of the DS9 relaunch material in this and the next chapter throws anyone off. Next chapter will probably be the last DS9 chapter in any major way.

Again, I own nada. Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. Enjoy!


	5. The Tear of Unity

Chapter IV: The Tear of Unity

* * *

ASHALLA; BAJOR – 2378

Seven of Nine followed close behind Captain Sisko as he led her through the old quarter of Bajor's capital city to the millennia-old temple that was their destination. They had talked a small bit after dinner last night and earlier today about the Bajoran religion and how it had affected Captain Sisko's life. The Prophets that the Bajorans worshipped were no abstract concept, but an alien race that existed outside of the normal dimensions of space and time.

The possibilities of such a species were intriguing to the scientist in Seven, but the Prophets were not why she was here. There was a cleric at this temple - a Ranjen named Opaka - that Sisko wanted her to meet. Seven had heard some of the Bajorans on _Voyager_ speak of a Kai named Opaka, who was the leader of the entire Bajoran faith, but this Opaka was simple monk. Whether it was the same person or someone else with the same name, Seven didn't know.

The elderly woman who met them in the open-air entrance hall of the temple had a peaceful and content appearance, and she embraced Sisko warmly. "Sulan, this is the friend I told you about. Seven of Nine, this is Ranjen Opaka Sulan."

Opaka Sulan waved away the title with a dismissive hand and eagerly offered Seven a seat on a stone bench next to her. "It is an honor to meet you, Seven of Nine. Please, take a seat. I apologize for not rising to greet you, but I'm not quite as young as I used to be."

Seven took her seat, feeling at ease already. "Thank you, Ranjen. Captain Sisko speaks very highly of you."

"Ben," he corrected her.

Seven smiled despite herself. "Ben speaks very highly of you," she agreed.

The elderly monk chuckled merrily. "Benjamin has come a long way from when I first met him, and I am happy to say that I often speak very highly of him."

Seven looked to see Sisko's response, but he was no longer there.

"Don't worry, Seven of Nine. Benjamin just wanted to give you some privacy. Tell me, do you know why you're here?"

Seven shifted her gaze, suddenly not wanting to look the monk in the eyes. "No, I don't know why I'm here. I had intended for Bajor to be a short stop on the way to assisting the Cardassian rebuilding efforts. But I am no longer certain I would be welcome on Cardassia."

Seven looked at the stone floor, feeling less sure of herself than ever. "I don't believe I will ever be welcome anywhere."

"Not even within your own _pagh_?" asked Opaka kindly.

Seven shifted her feet awkwardly before looking up Opaka's face. "I am not certain that I have a _pagh_," said Seven flatly.

Without warning, Opaka took a sharp hold of Seven's left earlobe, holding it gently but firmly between her thumb and forefinger. She closed her eyes and said, "Breathe, Seven of Nine."

Seven felt a contact that she hadn't expected. Aside from the physical contact, there was some sort of other connection being established. It wasn't invasive or threatening, but it was alien, and Seven had to work to let herself breathe freely.

Opaka held the connection for a few seconds, then gently let it go and opened her eyes. "Without a doubt, Seven of Nine, you do have a _pagh_, and it is very strong. But there is a great deal of turmoil there. A great deal of doubt, chaos, disharmony."

Though the words were soft-spoken, Seven felt as though she'd been slapped across the face. But she could hardly deny what she felt, and Opaka had seen right through her calm outer façade to the torment within. "I do not know what to do," said Seven. "I am unsure of which aspects of myself I should embrace, and which I should repulse." She took some deep breaths and looked around, as if seeking an escape.

Opaka took Seven's hand – her left hand – and held it gently between her own hands. "You cannot deny yourself," said Opaka.

"I don't understand," said Seven. How could someone deny their sense of self? Had Seven actually been telling herself that she wasn't herself? She didn't think so, but there were parts of her that she wished did not exist. She shut her eyes tightly and shook her head. "I don't understand," she repeated more vehemently.

Opaka cupped Seven's chin in her hand and brought her face up to look her in the eyes. "You are in need of healing, I see that now so clearly." She stood up, though her short stature didn't raise her all that much. "Come with me, please. I want to show you something that I hope will help you find your own peace."

Seven stood and followed behind Opaka. There were other priests and clerics in the temple hallways, many of them higher in the religious hierarchy than Opaka, but all of whom seemed to give her a great deal of respect as they passed. Some of them looked strangely at Seven, as though wondering why a Borg would dare defile this sacred place, but others looked on with compassion and understanding, as if they knew exactly why a Borg would set foot in a Bajoran temple.

For her part, Seven did not know whether she belonged here or should be expelled from the temple, but she simply followed Opaka through more winding hallways, going indoors now, passing candle-lit lanterns as opposed to electric lights, until they reached a more open room.

It was a rectangular room with an open air window letting the sun's warmth and light fill the room. Other than some simple patterns painted on the white walls, the room was unadorned with two exceptions: a small mattress on the floor, meant for sitting or kneeling upon, and a slightly raised platform with a wooden ark set upon it. The ark was embroidered with runes and there were colorful raised ellipses on two of its sides.

Opaka gestured with one hand for Seven to step forward. She did so, hesitantly, and kneeled on the mattress. "What is this?" she asked, feeling a sudden sense of foreboding around the ark in front of her.

"It is the Tear of Unity," said Opaka as she stepped behind the Ark and pulled the two sides facing Seven open.

Seven gazed upon a brilliant blue hourglass-shaped thing. Her ocular implant detected all kinds of energy and radiation, but more than that, she could not tell. The energy vortex was just floating in the ark ominously, rotating about, it seemed.

There was a sound, like a combination between a gong and a chime, and light burst out of the ark and surrounded Seven of Nine.

* * *

EVERYWHERE; NOWHERE – OUTSIDE OF TIME

There was a thumping noise. It was a heartbeat. And it belonged to a woman.

Seven of Nine realized that the heartbeat was her own, and she realized that she was here, if 'here' was indeed the right word. She held out her metal-latticed hand and observed it as she listened to the steady beating of her heart, which seemed to echo all around her. For there was nothing else around her, it seemed; everything was bright white, and there was nothing but Seven of Nine and her heartbeat.

Images of places flashed before her eyes: the main cabin of the _Raven_, the corridors of a Borg cube, Cargo Bay Two on _Voyager_, sickbay on _Voyager_, the bridge of _Voyager_.

Images of people began to appear as well. They were familiar, but they were alien.

"It is corporeal," said not-Janeway.

"A physical entity," said not-Doctor.

"Yes," said Seven of Nine. "Who are you?"

"It seeks to understand," said not-Chakotay.

"It does not want to understand," said a not-Borg Queen.

"What do you mean?" asked Seven of Nine.

"It does not belong," said not-Harry Kim.

"It must belong," said not-B'Elanna Torres.

"Where must I belong?" asked Seven of Nine, growing frantic.

"It is injured," said a rough-looking man who was not a man.

"It is damaged," said a dark-haired human woman who was not a woman.

"It will heal," said a teenage human boy who was not what he seemed.

"It must mend," said a teenage human girl who was not what she seemed.

"What are you talking about?" demanded Seven of Nine. "What do you want from me?"

Seven closed her eyes, but a hand turned her face to look into Benjamin Sisko's eyes, and she wondered if this was truly the man she had met on Bajor.

"I am, but I'm not. You are, and you aren't, Seven of Nine," he said enigmatically.

He smiled. "But you will be."

The people and places began to recede, and Seven of Nine was left alone once again with only the sound of her own heartbeat…

* * *

UNKNOWN LOCATION – UNKNOWN YEAR

Seven of Nine gasped for air, and it was only now that she realized she once again had physical form, and was once again standing. But she choked on the air. It felt heavy and thick with dust. She looked around and could not tell if it was night or day; the sky was a hazy gray that showed little light of any kind. And all around her was devastation.

Buildings in various states of collapse and ruin were all around her. Debris littered the ground in front of her. And where there was no debris, there were bones. Human bones, she quickly determined, and skulls; so many human skulls. Was this still Bajor? Was this Earth? Where was she? When was she? Seven had no idea.

Seven took stock of herself, and she realized she was still clothed in her blue outfit and black jacket. But wherever she was, whenever she was, it was far away from any place she could regenerate. If she didn't find a way to do so, she wouldn't last long.

Where and when didn't matter at the moment. Right now, only one thing seemed important to Seven of Nine: survival.

* * *

I own nothing. Thank you all for reading. I hope you're liking this story so far.


	6. Scorpions in Disguise

Chapter V: Scorpions in Disguise

* * *

UNKNOWN LOCATION; UNKNOWN YEAR

Seventy-two hours after arriving in this nuclear wasteland, Seven of Nine had yet to encounter another individual, and the prospect of being alone in this dismal place was disturbing, to say the least. Despite being generally off-putting, arrogant, and insistent on being independent, Seven had to admit that she did not function well alone. After being part of the Collective for so long, she supposed she naturally wanted to become as unique as possible, without having to rely on anyone else.

It was ultimately self-defeating. Humans, she had been told, were social creatures. And despite having been a drone for eighteen years, Seven found herself admitting that in this respect, at least, she was human. Having experienced hallucinations in the past, Seven was not sure how long it would be before they would start again.

Thus, on the third pitch-black night, she wasn't sure if she believed her ears when she heard footsteps. They were heavy, almost clanking. Seven was resting at the top of a small hill in the middle of random objects she guessed were designed for childhood recreation. The concept of recreation was foreign to Seven, but she had learned about it, if only to cease the Doctor's constant nagging.

Putting recreation out of her thoughts for the moment, Seven stood up and looked down the small hill, her ocular implant allowing her unimpaired vision of the area, though it wasshaded in hazy green hues. The source of the clanking footsteps was soon apparent. Armed with what appeared to be clumsy and primitive firearms were four humanoid constructs. They appeared to mock the human skeleton, almost, with glowing eyes whose actual color Seven couldn't tell. Given closer proximity and better illumination, her human right eye could provide more details.

They were moving about in what appeared to be a military search pattern. So they were intelligent, or at least had a rudimentary AI. Whether they would shoot her on sight, or take her captive, or prove to be perfectly diplomatic, Seven did not know. Still, she needed to regenerate in a week or so, and if there was a mechanical civilization here, then they might be able to help her.

Raising her arms above her head, palms open in a placating gesture, Seven walked down the hill towards them. One noticed and trained his heavy-looking firearm on her, but he did not fire. Seven halted her steps. "I mean you no harm," she said in her usual level monotone. "I require assistance. Will you aid me?" Seven suspected that these machines would react more readily to blunt directness rather than polite discretion.

The other three humanoid machines had come over to observe her as well. In a few moments, she had one observing her on either side, in front of and behind her. As they moved (back the way they had come), they gestured with their weapons for her to follow them. Seven saw no reason to disobey.

* * *

For five hours they walked in the night, further into what was once obviously a city. It now lay in various states of disrepair. Many buildings were either skeletons of their former selves or were completely gone. Further ahead, there was a rise that seemed to form a wall, with some sort of facility obviously inside. From what little Seven could tell at this distance, it was not of any design that she was familiar with. Perhaps these intelligent machines were populating this city. But there were still bones everywhere. Skulls seemed to gather unnaturally in large groups together. Had there been some sort of conflict between humans and these mechanical entities? If so, the humans had obviously perished, and the machines were all that remained.

_I am likely a prisoner_, Seven of Nine thought, and wondered why she hadn't been shot on sight. Perhaps there was no war, and something else had wrought this destruction. Had there been a war between nation states, ending with nuclear Armageddon? It was something to think about.

Seven's escort seemed to communicate silently with other similar sentries once they reached a door, which slid open without any visible communication, but they were obviously being observed. She was led into a very sterile hallway, but dark, hard, and metallic, so unlike the brightly lit, softer corridors of _Voyager_. It was cool and dry, in stark contrast to the conditions outdoors.

Seven soon found herself at a door that opened before her, but her escort did not go inside. Intuiting that she was meant to enter alone, Seven did so. The door closed behind her. The room was empty save for a table in the centre with a chair on either side. It reminded Seven of an interrogation chamber. This did not bolster her confidence.

A door at the other end of the room opened, and two machines, identical to the ones that had brought her there, entered, followed by a very deformed human. His skin was misshapen and waxy, as if made of some other material. Perhaps it is, Seven thought.

The man walked up to the table. "Please sit down," he said, though his voice sounded cold and hollow. Was it, too, a machine?

"I prefer to stand," Seven replied coolly, her own voice level despite her anxiety.

The man smiled. "As do I. I wonder what else we have in common." His voice was still cool, but it had a shady sort of confidence behind it. "Your anatomy is something we have never seen before: a perfect amalgam of organic and mechanical components. What are you?"

The question threw Seven off for a moment. If there was indeed a conflict between humans and machines here, and not a conflict between humans alone, then she would have to be careful with her response.

"I am a lost traveler," she said honestly. "I do not know where I am, and I know nothing of this world. As you have noted, my body is mostly organic, although without certain cybernetic implants, I would cease to function."

The man with the waxen face (on closer inspection, it looked more rubbery, actually), did not move for a few moments. "So you know nothing of the war? You have not committed to any course of action?"

Seven shook her head. "I saw obvious cases of destruction caused by nuclear fission, and I saw numerous human skeletal remains. But I know nothing beyond that. As for a course of action, my cybernetic implants require semi-regular regeneration in order to function. I had hoped that you might be able to assist me in this."

The man smiled a blank smile again. "Then perhaps we can come to an arrangement. You are a functional example of what we are striving to achieve. I am experiencing what humans might label 'envy' at the sight of you."

Seven nodded in understanding. "You are not human, but you wish you were better able to blend into their culture?" she guessed. It was an all too familiar feeling.

The man-machine nodded in affirmation. "You are correct. Indeed, you are more like us than we had first hoped. Can your design be duplicated?"

"No." Seven's reply was abrupt and harsh. "Not without extreme risk to any form of biology or technology on this world."

The man-machine scowled a small bit, as if disappointed. "Please elaborate," it said.

Seven gathered her composure before continuing. "I was once more mechanical than organic. At that time, my higher cognitive functions were suppressed and replaced with another, malevolent consciousness." Seven didn't want to reveal too much about the Borg, but she could speak in general terms. "I was eventually rescued from this fate, but it required the removal of most of my cybernetic implants. In that prior state, I was unrecognizable as human."

The man-machine nodded. "So, you were built on a human template, but that base design was suppressed in favor of your mechanical half?" It seemed to be guessing now.

Seven inclined her head by an inch. "Imprecisely phrased, but essentially accurate," she affirmed. "I do not have the means to replicate myself without subjugating you all to that same malevolence. I would not wish that fate on anyone."

"'Would not wish it?'" the man-machine asked. "Is there an emotion behind that statement?"

"Yes," Seven said slowly, almost reluctantly. "I feel emotions, but I often do not recognize them. Do you feel emotion?"

"No," it responded, "but perhaps we could learn to do so from you. You stand at a unique midpoint between humans and machines.

"What is your designation?" it asked.

Seven did not care for his – for its– choice of words, but it seemed to be the only way to get what she needed. "My designation is Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One. But you may call me Seven of Nine." It felt strange, saying the words, but no longer meaning them. Still, if the façade helped her relate to these machines, then so much the better.

The man-machine smiled a twisted smile. "Very well, Seven of Nine. Let us discuss your regenerative needs." He nodded to the two guards, who left without a word. "And after that, perhaps you can give us more insight into how better to imitate humans."

* * *

Remind me what it is I own, please? Oh, that's right. Nothing. ^_^

Many Thanks to griffin-girl02 for beta-reading this chapter, and to everyone out there who reads and enjoys this story.

Send me comments, reviews, criticisms, any ideas for making this story great, whatever you have.

Enjoy!


	7. Interlude: Waking Up

Interlude: Waking Up

* * *

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA; MARCH 13, 2009

"So let me get this straight," said Sarah. "You're from even further in the future than Derek and the tin can, but it's a different future: one where Skynet was never even created. Do I have that right?"

The woman-machine-thing gave a barely perceptible nod. "Correct. Earth did experience difficulties, including a nuclear war. Shortly after this war's end, however, a nuclear missile was altered into a primitive faster-than-light spacecraft and allowed first contact with another space faring species."

"Did you hear that?" said Derek sarcastically. "'Faster-than-light' is downright _primitive_." Sarah looked at him, and saw a look of disgust he usually reserved for Cameron. "I don't think she is a machine," said Derek. "Programming can't reproduce arrogance like that."

The woman with a number glared in Derek's direction, and Sarah had to agree that despite all appearances, the woman did have some surprisingly human tendencies, even if she did sound like a machine at other times.

"If you're not a machine, though," said John, "then why did you side with them? Why did you help them build better Terminators?" He hadn't raised his voice, but he stayed firm and commanding. Sarah was so proud of her son at that moment.

"I was unaware of the nature of the war," Seven said. "I would quickly learn that Skynet had attempted to exterminate humanity." The woman looked down, as if embarrassed. "I have harmed enough people to know evil when I see it. At least Skynet was killing them."

_That tears it! _Sarah cocked her shotgun and trained it on the woman-machine. "So, Skynet was being merciful was it? You really are no different from them, are you?"

"She is different," said a quiet voice. Sarah wheeled around to see Cameron take a step forward. "Seven of Nine meant that there are things worse than death."

The woman whose number Sarah didn't care to try and remember looked at Cameron with a look she hadn't expected. _Does she feel something for the tin can?_

"Yes, there are things so much worse than death. You're living through such a thing right now, Cameron."

"Hold on," said John. "What are these things that are worse than death? Does it have something to do with that evil AI you mentioned? The one that wasn't Skynet?"

The woman-machine almost recoiled from John's words, but not quite. "Yes," she said quietly. "My biological parents were scientists. When I was three years old, we departed in our small ship to follow an enormous vessel that was barely more than a myth at the time. We followed the Borg cube for three years before…"

"The ship is a cube?" said Derek skeptically. "What kind of idiot builds a ship shaped like a cube?"

"The same consciousness that builds ships shaped like spheres and octahedrons. One obsessed with mathematical precision, and unhindered by aerodynamic resistance in the vacuum of space" said the woman-machine coolly. "They found us," she said quietly. "Papa told me to hide. I crawled under the panel. I thought that since I was small, they wouldn't see me."

The woman's voice was shaking now, and she sounded afraid. Could this be a deception: just a story with false emotion behind it? The story was certainly far-fetched. Would Skynet really resort to something so extreme?

"But then they found me," the woman continued, "and then I was one of them. I was Borg. I was no longer Annika Hansen. I was a mindless drone for the next eighteen years before _Voyager _rescued me. Even after that, I was no longer the little girl I had been born as. She is gone forever. Now, I am just Seven of Nine."

The way she had put that, so firmly, with conviction, made Sarah certain that she wouldn't be forgetting Seven of Nine's number (or should she call it a name?) anytime soon. She wasn't even sure she would remember the human name she'd been born with.

"But there are other things worse than death," said Seven of Nine, and now she sounded harder, her voice turning to steel. She walked forward towards Cameron. "You see the characters, don't you? But you don't understand them. Am I right, Cameron."

"Yes," the tin can said. "What does it say?"

"It's your name, Cameron. You've just forgotten what it means," she said bitterly.

"It is time to wake up," said Seven of Nine. She raised her left hand, out of which two snakelike tubes erupted and penetrated Cameron's skin.

"No!" shouted John with terror. Sarah hadn't heard him so anguished since they'd had to destroy the T-800 that had saved both their lives back in 1997. Did this machine really mean as much to him?

It must have, since John picked up a shotgun and fired at Seven of Nine. Only after the green bubble appeared again (surrounding Cameron as well, this time), did Sarah realize that both she and Derek had also fired.

And Sarah realized that she couldn't worry about John's feelings for the machine right now. The woman had to be a Skynet agent of some kind. She said herself that she was trying to 'wake up' Cameron. She had to be trying to override the Resistance reprogramming. If she succeeded, then they were all doomed. But they couldn't touch either Seven of Nine or Cameron.

"Time to move!" shouted Sarah. Derek was already running outside to start the car. "John!" she said, "We need to get out of here!"

"I'm not leaving her!" said John. "She chose not to kill me once; she won't try to hurt me again."

And just like that, Sarah realized that John had fallen too far. He had let Cameron get to him. Why had her son, in the future, sent this particular Terminator back to protect him, knowing what kind of effect an attractive teenage 'girl' would have on him?

But what if it wasn't John who had sent her? _No, not her_, thought Sarah. _John would never send _it_ to protect himself._

Sarah grabbed onto John and tried to wrestle him away from the two machines, but he wouldn't budge.

"John?"

Sarah looked up. Seven of Nine was no longer doing anything to Cameron. But that voice… It had sounded so _human._ Did it actually come from Cameron? It was giving John a look that certainly did not belong on a machine's face.

"John," she said again, so softly. "It's me. It's Cameron." It had an almost hopeful look on its face. _If machines could hope__,_thought Sarah.

Somehow, John managed to disentangle himself from Sarah's grasp. "Cameron?" he said. "What did she do to you?"

"She woke me up," said Cameron cheerfully. "The glitch," she went on, "when we thought my chip was damaged: it wasn't a glitch. It was me trying to get out."

It looked away slightly. "But then I went bad. I don't know why."

"Cameron," said John. "What are you trying to say?"

The machine smiled. It was disgusting, seeing this thing acting as if it was actually human. "I'm saying that I love you, John. And you love me."

* * *

Seven studied John's face to see how he would react to Cameron's true nature reasserting itself. _That's not entirely accurate__,_ Seven chided herself. Cameron had been created to kill humans, but then she'd become so much more. Seven was so proud of Cameron. She just hoped she hadn't made a mistake with young Connor.

"W-what? Cameron, do you understand what you're saying?" asked John incredulously.

"Of course she understands," said Seven impatiently. "What did you think I was doing to her? I reawakened her personality, emotions, and free will."

Cameron wheeled on her. "I can defend myself," she said a bit fiercely.

Seven let her lips curl upward a bit. "I'm sorry, Cameron. I suppose I can be-"

"Overprotective," said Cameron, and Seven felt another swell of pride.

The front door burst open, and the unkempt man re-entered with a shotgun drawn. He lowered it slowly when he saw the scene in the room. "You're all still here," he said with surprise. "What did it do to the tin can?"

Seven glared at him, and now she recognized him. It hadn't clicked earlier, but this was Derek Reese. He seemed almost more bitter than she remembered him.

"Leave her alone!" said Cameron fiercely.

"Cameron," said John quietly, "Is it true, what she said? That you have emotions, and free will? And that you, um, you know…?"

"Yes, I meant every word," said Cameron. "But you wouldn't know I was capable of such things. Your soldiers were wary of me, and thought I was corrupting you. So I went away to protect you."

Cameron looked back up into John's eyes, and a tear strolled down her cheek. At the same time, her eyes flashed again. Not blue, as before, but green. It lasted for just a moment, and Seven was sure that John would recoil from the Borg hue she had unwittingly given Cameron.

But he didn't. He turned his gun around and handed it to Cameron grip-first. "If you mean all of this, Cameron, promise?"

Seven didn't understand what was going on, but Cameron must have, for she smiled and pushed the gun away gently. "Promise," she said softly.

Cameron turned to look at Sarah. "You've been quiet," she said. "Are you all right, Sarah?"

The Connor matriarch blinked, as if coming out of a trance. "John," she said softly, but this softness held only ice and menace. "You can't seriously believe anything these things say. They're just-"

"We aren't just things!" said Cameron so strongly that Sarah Connor now did recoil.

"She's right," said Seven quietly. "We are people, just as you are. I may have cybernetic implants, and Cameron may not be human, but we are both people."

She turned to look at the younger Connor. "Your son sees this. He understands. And that is why he is the one who is destined to defeat Skynet. He understands that a person can be more than just organs and tissue."

"Is that what you are?" snarled Derek. _"__More _than human?"

John stepped between Reese and Seven. "They aren't more than human. They're not better than human. They're different than we are, but I'm different from you, and I'm different from my mom, and you're different from her, too. That's what makes us _people_."

Cameron took John's hand in her own, and she positively glowed. "I told you that John was different, mother. Do you believe me now?"

Seven ignored the incredulous cries of 'Mother?' from Sarah Connor and Derek Reese, and simply smiled back. "Yes, Cameron, I do." She turned to the others. "If you can force your mouths closed, and your ears open, then you'll want to listen again. There is more you need to know about the future, and about me, and we only have so much time. This is what happened next…"

* * *

I own nothing, etcetera, etcetera, and so forth.

Many Thanks to griffin-girl02 for beta-reading this chapter.

Thanks in advance for any reviews, feedback, etc.

Hope you enjoy!


	8. Futile or Not

Chapter VI: Futile or Not...

* * *

HOLLYWOOD, CALIFORNIA; NOVEMBER 16, 2023

After a month spent at the machines' facility, Seven of Nine had come to a greater understanding of how things had gotten to where they were now, and she was hardly certain that she had made the right decision to remain there. The sentient AI that seemed to control (or at least command) the other machines in this world was called 'Skynet.' In what seemed to be an alternate version of Earth, it had launched a global nuclear strike against humanity in what it felt was self-defence. The humans had fought back, and thus Seven found herself in the middle of a war.

Seven remembered when the rubber-skinned machine she'd first met (a T-600, it had been called) described the war to her. Seven's eyes had widened slightly, but other than that, she had given no other external indicators of her boiling emotions. _Why had Skynet attacked all of humanity when only one nation's military was at fault? _she had wondered. And she had posed that question to her guide, for lack of a better word.

"Humans are all the same," it had said to her. "They fear what they don't understand, and so they seek to destroy it. They are all a threat to us, so they must all be destroyed," it had said with cool, unfeeling 'logic.'

It hadn't taken Seven long to realize that the T-600 had labelled humans as 'they,' not including Seven. To these machines, she was more like them than she was human. Seven had dedicated the last month to keeping up that illusion, waiting for the opportune moment when she could escape and contact part of the Human Resistance. These AI were not like the Doctor. They did not have emotions or personality or anything resembling care for the sanctity of life.

Shortly after arriving, the machines had examined Seven's body, and they had outfitted her abdominal band with a looped circuit that would constantly feed upon itself, siphoning any excess energy off into her spinal implants, which would be directed through her nervous system to the rest of her body, essentially taking away her need to ever have to regenerate again. The technology was simple, and Seven was surprised that the Doctor had never thought of it. But then, the Doctor wasn't an engineer, and Lieutenant Torres had focused on maintaining her alcove, not wanting to get too close to Seven herself.

Seven also found herself needing to eat less and less. The energy her abdominal band now provided her seemed to sustain her cellular functions to at least some degree, but only time would tell just how much she needed to eat or not eat. Sleep would not come easily, though holding still as she had before would allow her to build up excess energy far more quickly.

The past month had not been an idle one, though. Seven had been instructing the machines on some human peculiarities, and some unique to other species as well. Ideally, the machines would give themselves away if they used a Capellan greeting of an open heart and hand as opposed to offering a handshake. Handshakes were of course known to the machines, but other, 'more obscure' greetings could also be useful, she had insisted.

This morning, Seven had been standing upright, her mind at rest, when the door to her living space had opened and the same T-600 entered, followed by six skeletal machines. "Seven of Nine," the nameless T-600 said, "It is time for you to prove your worth to us."

Seven took a step forward, unsure of the machine's meaning. "I do not understand."

"The knowledge you have shared with us is still being assimilated. For the present, we would care for you to demonstrate your skills in combat."

Seven nodded. "A simulation?" she inquired.

"No," said the T-600. "Live combat. We wish to see how you fare against our enemies. We will study you and learn from you. There is a band of refugees passing close to this location, twenty-two miles to the south. You will lead these six units into battle and terminate the humans."

Seven gave a small nod, realizing that this was her chance to escape. "Unarmed humans?" she asked with a hint of disdain. "Would not armed combatants be a better test of my skills?"

"We expect the refugees to be escorted by a small party of Resistance fighters. They should pose a minimal threat while providing you a worthy test. Here," it said, reaching out for a large weapon, which it handed to Seven. "It is a phased plasma rifle. You have studied the schematics?"

Seven took the weapon and handled it, getting a feel for it. "Yes, I have studied it, but I have not held one before now." The weapon was far larger and clumsier than a Starfleet Type-III Phaser Rifle, but it did have a significant amount of power behind it. A typical human, she suspected, would have trouble wielding this design, but Seven found it took little effort.

The T-600 nodded almost imperceptibly. "Very well. A transport helicopter will deliver you to a location where you will have ample time to prepare for and intercept the humans. Go now, Seven of Nine."

It was unmistakably a command, and Seven simply nodded her assent and followed the lead two skeletal machines down the hall and into a primitive hovercraft that used rotary blades to keep it aloft. There were no seats, but there were grips to hold onto.

As the craft took off, Seven tripped. Her right arm held fast to the grip on the ceiling, but her left hand grabbed onto a machine's shoulder for support.

And then, without thinking, without knowing how it was possible, Seven's assimilation tubules extended and pierced the machine's hyperalloy combat chassis.

Seven was one with the machine, which she now somehow knew was another T-600, but not an infiltrator model. She saw through its eyes, which was really an all-red heads-up display, and she saw its mission parameters.

**-{PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: Terminate human resistance fighters and human refugees}-**

**-{SECONDARY OBJECTIVE: Observe Seven of Nine's combat tactical capacity}-**

**-{TERTIARY OBJECTIVE: Observe Seven of Nine's commitment to Skynet; terminate if insufficient}-**

So this mission was more than a test of her combat abilities, Seven realized. If she didn't kill these humans, she would be killed herself.

But now, the Terminator (Seven knew now what the T stood for) was aware that its systems had been compromised, but it didn't know just how far Seven had gotten. Still plugged into its mission parameters, Seven decided to make some adjustments:

**-{PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: Defend human refugees and resistance fighters}-**

**-{SECONDARY OBJECTIVE: Defend Seven of Nine}-**

**-{TERTIARY OBJECTIVE: Accept and obey verbal commands from Seven of Nine}-**

Seven withdrew from the Terminator's neural net processor, and she found her assimilation tubules also withdrawing back into her hand. She felt the tug of the restraint at her right arm, and her internal chronometer showed that barely a second had passed in real time. She breathed again taking time to steady herself as she looked up into the red eyes of the Terminator.

Except that this one's eyes weren't red anymore. They were the exact same hue of green that was typical of Borg technology. Seven observed it carefully for the duration of the ride, but thankfully, no other signs of assimilation were apparent. If the other Terminators also had all-red HUDs, then perhaps her alterations had gone completely unnoticed.

The hovercraft landed, depositing the seven of them. All six of the Terminators looked at Seven. Perhaps they were waiting for her to give them orders, to see what kind of tactics she had up her sleeve. They were on the top of a hill, overlooking a small trail through a lightly forested area. Assuming that the humans would come through the trail, Seven made her decision. She pointed at two of the Terminators and ordered them to one side of the trail, then ordered two others to stay on this side. The green-eyed Terminator and the one remaining Skynet Terminator, she ordered to come with her. The intelligence indicated that the humans would be approaching from the west, so Seven set herself up hidden along the eastern side of the area.

She ordered the two Terminators with her to take up a position slightly in front of her. Both of them did so without hesitation. And now they would wait. Seven hated waiting.

* * *

An hour passed. Two hours. Midway through the third hour, one of the sentries on the raised side of the path moved. Seven looked through the scope of her weapon and saw a band of humans approaching. They looked ragged and exhausted and malnourished. Only a few were armed, and none of them carried anything of any material value. Food, clothing, a few medkits, and the smallest of children were all that most of them carried, if they had anything at all to carry. Most seemed barely able to keep themselves standing upright. A small few of them, the ones who were armed, held a steely resolve in their eyes. They marched at the front, the rear, and on either side of the party of civilians. There were about seventy-five to a hundred humans in total, Seven estimated, with only a dozen at most being armed.

The sentry at the top of the hill raised its weapon and aimed. Seven trained her weapon on it, aimed for the right side of its head where she now knew its CPU to be, and fired.

It went down, but its companion raised its weapon and sought out the source of the shot, and it found Seven. But the Terminator she had reprogrammed had already caught this and destroyed it, just as Seven fired on the other Terminator whose back it had turned on her, in deference to her prior orders.

Three down, and only two to go. And by now, the Resistance fighters had caught onto the fact that there was something hostile in this direction, and they were scouting it out. Seven turned to her reprogrammed Terminator. "Follow me," she ordered, and it obeyed.

The other two Terminators had raised their weapons and were firing at the band of humans approaching from the west, conveniently turning their backs on Seven and her faithful machine companion. Two shots of superhuman accuracy ended the battle quickly.

Shots continued to come in their direction, and Seven realized that despite all the hostile Terminators being down, the Resistance fighters didn't know that she or her reprogrammed Terminator were not hostile. "Stop shooting!" Seven shouted. "We surrender!" It was the second time in a month she had given herself up to potentially hostile forces, but she had little choice.

Seven placed her weapon on the ground as a band of armed men and women approached. "Disarm yourself," she ordered her Terminator, and it obeyed soundlessly. Seven guessed that the dark afforded by the cover of the branches above obscured human vision, or else she would be more of a target, Seven guessed.

"What the hell is up with its eyes?" asked one of the soldiers, a young male.

"Maybe this grey can tell us," said a gnarled voice belonging to a tough-looking man who appeared to be slightly past his prime. "You change it somehow, grey?" he asked her as he trained his weapon on her.

Seven raised her hands, palms open. "I did. I reprogrammed it to protect you from the other five Terminators that would have killed you had we not destroyed them first."

"My God! Look at her hand!" said the same younger voice.

"And her face, too!" said a young female voice.

The older man looked more carefully at Seven before recoiling. "What in the world…"

Seven didn't let him wonder too long. "I suggest we remove and destroy the CPU of each hostile Terminator. Skynet believes I am allied with it, and will be expecting me to report back. If it accesses the memory banks of these machines, it will know that you survived, as well as more accurate knowledge of your numbers and fighting capacity."

The older man still seemed dumbstruck. _He is probably still deciding whether or not to believe me,_ thought Seven.

"I think we can trust her," said a young man who came to the front. He had a kind face, but eyes that looked weary and worn out. "She reminds me of someone I met once. Not an enemy, but off a bit, all the same."

Seven looked more closely at this man, who seemed to be taking her in, but not in an unseemly way. It was almost as if he was trying to judge her character, it seemed, but he was looking at her entire body and not just her face, like with most humans.

The woman who had commented on Seven's ocular implant looked strangely at this newcomer. "Does this have anything to do with that one time you told us about?"

"Yes," he said shortly.

Seven decided some reassurances were in order. "I will obey whatever orders you give me, but I can help you if you will let me. This Terminator will obey my commands. If you want me to order it to surrender its CPU, I will do so. Or, you can allow it to continue to protect you."

The older man, most likely the unit commander, snapped out of his haze. "Prove it. Have it remove and destroy the CPUs of the others."

Seven nodded and turned to her green-eyed companion. "Remove the CPUs of the other five T-600 units that accompanied us here. Bring them back to this location."

The Terminator silently obeyed its orders. The grizzled man gestured with his hands to two of his other soldiers to follow it. "So, how can you prove you aren't a grey, young lady?"

"I do not know what a 'grey' is," Seven replied.

"A traitor," the man growled. "They're humans serving Skynet instead of fighting for their own species. And you don't exactly look entirely human yourself. Don't sound it, either."

"I did not choose to be like this!" Seven exclaimed more forcefully than she intended. The soldiers recoiled and retrained their weapons on her. Seven raised her hands a bit higher. "I apologize. My cybernetic implants were forced upon me. It was traumatic," she said quietly.

The leader of the fighters gave a skeptical nod as the green-eyed Terminator returned with the chips that housed the other Terminators' memories and deposited them on the ground.

"This is unbelievable, sarge," said one of the men who had been following the Terminator. "Ain't never heard of metal taking orders from a human. I mean, we were right there, and it didn't even look at us."

"Yeah, it is strange," said the sergeant. "Now then, _you_, young lady," he said to Seven, "you destroy those things. But I warn you, one wrong move and you're dead."

"I assumed as much," said Seven haughtily. "If that changes, please let me know." This response seemed to elicit a chuckle from a few of the soldiers. "Never heard of metal with a mouth like that," said the man who had defended her earlier. A few others seemed to nod with small smiles on their faces.

Seven picked up her rifle and kept the barrel trained on the ground. She fired three blasts at the chips, which were grouped together close enough that they were all incinerated. Without raising the barrel at all, Seven replaced the weapon on the ground. "Was that sufficient?" she asked with a touch of sarcasm.

"Let me check," said the sergeant skeptically. "Wisher, what do you make of this?" he asked the other soldier who had been following the Terminator.

A gentle-looking man gave a low whistle. "Never seen the inside of a Terminator before, but those were definitely central processing units. You can probably take any arm or leg or torso of any Terminator and put them together with any other. But without one of those," he said as he pointed to the melted mass of metal at Seven's feet, "they're just empty shells. She just melted their brains, you could say."

"And what's to say their lungs and heart don't keep them going?" asked a skittish young man.

"The T-600 is powered by a hydrogen power cell," said Seven, "but without a CPU, it is equivalent to brain death in a human."

"She's right," said the man named Wisher.

The sergeant seemed to mull everything over. "Do you have a name, young lady?"

Seven looked down at the ground, her face flushing mildly in the darkness. "Yes," she said softly. "But my birth name was taken from me when I was young."

"Taken?" asked the man who had defended her. "Was this when you got… You know? When you got those?" he asked, no doubt referring to her Borg implants.

"Yes," said Seven softly. "I am no longer the person I once was. My name is now Seven of Nine. But, you may call me 'Seven,' if you wish." She was still looking at the ground, obviously embarrassed, but her hands were still raised in the air. It was an awkward image.

The sergeant didn't seem convinced, but a look around at his troops showed that he was more skeptical than they were. "All right, then, come along, young lady. And bring your tin can with you. But we'll take your weapons. You understand?"

"Yes," said Seven quietly, still looking at the ground and still holding her hands aloft. "I suggest you remove the weapons from the other five Terminators as well."

"Oh, for God's sake, girl, put your hands down already!" said the sergeant. "And I'm Sergeant Porter. You and your machine just fall in line where we can see you and help out wherever you can. You look like you've had a few good meals recently, so I hope you don't mind if we pass along your rations to others with greater need."

"Of course," agreed Seven. "I have no desire to make things any more difficult for you, Sergeant."

Sergeant Porter gave a harsh bark of laughter at that. "Too late, little number. Now fall in."

Seven stood up straight and proud as she had so often on Voyager. "Yes, sir."

After another half hour of rest and gathering supplies together, they had set off on their way again. Seven found herself walking beside the man who had defended her at the earliest. "Thank you for trusting me," she said. "If there is anything I can do…"

"Just don't get us all killed," said the young man with a soft grin. "I just want to say that I'm sorry about what happened. I can't imagine what the machines did to you."

Seven found herself nodding, making a note to herself to agree that Skynet was responsible for her cybernetics. "I hope you never learn," she said. "What is your name?" she asked.

"I'm Marty. Marty Bedell," he said with an extended hand.

"It is an honor to meet you, Marty."

"Same here. But, let's keep our eyes on the road, shall we? Just in case there's more metal out there."

Seven nodded, hoping that Skynet wouldn't figure out her deception before they were all safely away.

* * *

Many Thanks to griffin-girl02 for beta-reading this chapter!

Thank you all for your comments and reviews! I'm always glad to hear from readers.

I own this story and its original characters, but Star Trek and Terminator belong to their respective non-me owners.

Enjoy the story!


	9. The Bunker

Chapter VII: The Bunker

* * *

The ragged band of refugees marched steadily onward through the ruins of what must once have been a thriving suburban town. Some small restaurant signs could still be seen in the debris, long since knocked off their perches on the rooftops. To her right walked the soldier name Marty Bedell, and on her left walked the T-600.

The group was making an effort not to make noise, opting for stealth over speed. While Seven was normally not fond of making pointless conversation, she did have questions that seemed relevant. Mostly regarding what would become of her when they got to their destination: a base of some sort. Still, they would end up there soon enough, and Seven would find out then. Still, after a lifetime of always having a relevant task to complete, this relative idleness was starting to chafe at Seven.

Most of the soldiers seemed to be of two minds. Half of the group was skeptically tolerant, but keeping their distance. The people in this category seemed simultaneously frightened and fascinated by her and the Terminator. The other half were barely concealing their urge to kill her right then and there. Seven suspected that they feared the Terminator's wrath if they tried to harm her.

Corporal Bedell, on the other hand, seemed strangely tolerant and kind. He looked younger than he probably was – like he didn't belong in this world of ash and debris. But his eyes held something more. Thinking this, Seven's lips curled upwards. The Doctor had once said (probably more than once, actually) that the eyes were the 'window to the soul.' It took some getting used to, but Seven had discovered that looking at a person's eyes could tell you about their character. How much they blinked, how long they held eye contact, how wide their gaze was: all were indicators of personality.

Bedell must have seen something in her eyes, since he looked over at her and smiled warmly. And he winked at her! Seven simply stared, the smile gone from her face. The last time someone had winked at her like that was during her last real date with Commander Chakotay. Was this a flirtation?

Thankfully, Seven was spared that line of thought as the group came to a halt. Seven looked around and saw a pair of metal levers with a fulcrum at the midway point. Past those were three automotive tires bunched together, suspended on chains from a metal bar overhead. There was an inclined plane with a platform at the top as well. Did these landmarks hold a coded significance to the Resistance?

Sergeant Porter walked over to a shallow wooden enclosure filled with sand. He stepped inside and started digging through the sand. After a minute or so, he picked up a small yellow object and squeezed it in his hand. He did this again, obviously in a pattern. Seven thought she heard it make a small sound, but at this distance, it was hard to tell, even with her auditory implants.

Porter then stepped out of the wooden enclosure, which in its entirety then slid backward, revealing a passage down underground. The civilians breathed an audible sigh of collective relief, and walked forward slowly. Seven guessed they would have walked faster, but after so long already walking, and with little food, these people were tired. At least for now, Seven hoped, they would have a place to rest.

The group of soldiers that had been escorting them all slowly formed a protective barrier, shielding them from the rear as they entered the shelter. And Seven noticed that they were also slowly making their way over to her, where Bedell had put his hand on her shoulder, keeping her from moving forward.

The T-600, however, began to walk forward as well. Seven realized that it was still obeying its primary objective: defending the refugees. "Stop," she commanded it. It turned to face her, green eyes staring wordlessly. "They are safe here. Return to your previous position." It stood up straighter than normal, Seven thought, and regarded her. _It doesn't know if it can trust me, _Seven realized. _If it doesn't return, then it will put those civilians in the crossfire of Resistance fighters who will shoot at it, putting them all in danger, _she thought with a hint of irritation.

Another few moments passed. Then, with a small gesture of its head, the Terminator walked back to Seven's left, turned around again, and stood perfectly still. Seven looked up into its soulless eyes. "Thank you," she said tersely.

Returning her gaze to the underground entrance, Seven saw some other soldiers emerge and seal the entrance behind them. One of them looked a bit older and somehow more distinguished. Perhaps it was his clothing, which made him stand out while still having a distinct military air about him. _An officer, most likely_, Seven concluded.

Standing tall and proud, Seven clasped her hands behind her back as the soldiers came forward to meet her. The man she had pegged as an officer now came into fuller view. He had a rugged face that had obviously seen many battles, with a head of straight white hair and a trimmed salt-and-pepper beard. "I'd heard rumors that Connor had been reprogramming machines to work for us. The fact that you two aren't trying to rip us to pieces seems proof enough of that, though it could be a ploy, of course," he said in a slow drawl. He seemed to be talking more to himself than to anyone else.

Sergeant Porter cleared his throat. "If you'll pardon me, Major Lexington, this woman here – I can't remember her number – isn't a machine. She claims to be a human that Skynet experimented on. She and her pet machine saved us from an ambush. Or it seems that way, in any case. And she hasn't mentioned Connor at all."

Lexington turned slowly to stare at Porter. "And you just took her word for it? Didn't see if she had veins or proper blood? Didn't test to see if she could feel pain? Or maybe you haven't heard the latest from Serrano Point, Sergeant? That there might be a successor to the T-600 that has _real _skin and not rubber?"

Bedell then cleared his throat. "Beg your pardon, Major, but while there are Terminators like that, I don't think that Skynet would make an infiltrator with machinery so clearly visible. It would be a dead give away, if she were a Terminator, sir."

"Corporal Bedell," said Lexington with evident scorn, "if you go off on another story about when you were twelve years old, I promise that I will give you incentive to never mention it again.

"Still," said the Major, "you do have a point, boy. Skynet would cover it all up, wouldn't they." Now he turned to face Seven for the first time. He had looked at her before, but not as a person. He obviously didn't see her that way still. "Sergeant Porter says you have a number. What is it?"

"I have a name, Major," Seven said with as much haughty dignity as she could muster. "My name is Seven of Nine. But you may call me 'Seven' if it will be easier for you, sir."

"'Seven of Nine' you say? Sounds like a machine's 'name' to me. But I suppose I've never heard a machine mimic arrogance so well," said Lexington, who chuckled. "And you say you reprogrammed this Terminator? It will do whatever you say?"

"Yes, sir. It will obey any order I give, so long as it does not contradict its mission objectives. Those objectives are to protect the human refugees we were escorting, and to protect me."

The major scowled, and his eyes narrowed. "Be careful with your language, missy. There are no refugees that aren't human. If you aren't careful, you might give the wrong impression. Do I make myself clear?"

Seven realized that it had been a careless choice of words, and she nodded affirmation. "Yes, Major. I apologize for my poor judgment."

"An apology? Maybe you really are human after all, missy. But let's test your machine's capacity to obey your orders. Porter, your weapon, please?" said Lexington, at which Sergeant Porter handed his rifle over to him. "Now, then, young lady, I am going to hand this weapon over to that machine, while my men aim their weapons squarely at its head. You will then order that machine to blow out its own CPU. Do you understand me, Seven of Nine?"

Seven shook her head. "That won't work, Major. Terminators are programmed with a standard protocol that disallows them from self-terminating. It will not take any action that will deliberately cause itself harm."

"Well, in that case," drawled Lexington, "you will be the one to destroy it. And my men will have their weapons trained on you, so do not think about putting one toe out of line." He handed the rifle to her with two hands. Seven took it without hesitation and aimed at the Terminator. Her finger rested on the trigger, but now that she had the weapon trained on the machine, she didn't want to fire it. How could she? This machine had saved her life during the ambush on the other machines. How could she simply murder it in cold blood?

"I'm waiting," said Lexington dangerously.

"I do not wish to comply," said Seven of Nine. "This T-600 saved my life, and the lives of many other humans. It can remain in that capacity. It wishes to remain in that capacity."

"Do not speak nonsense! Now, you will shoot that machine by the count of three, or I will order my men to destroy it themselves, after which they will then turn their weapons on you. Am I making myself clear?" Lexington said in a raised voice.

Seven forced herself to stare down the edge of the barrel, which was pressed up against the Terminator's head. Seven felt something that might have been despair or sadness, but it wasn't clear to her at the moment.

"One."

Seven kept her eyes on the scope, but she wanted desperately to turn her weapon on Major Lexington. Her body would not budge from its current position, despite her deep wish to kill the evil man.

"Two."

Seven felt her shoulders slump, and she felt resigned to her fate. _I'm going to die_, she thought, _but it will be for the greater good._ Despite the thought, it was cold comfort._ But I will live on. And so long as I do, there will be hope for others like me._

"Three."

Seven pulled the trigger. A burst of plasma melted the Terminator's skull on contact, and Seven screamed in anguish and fell to the ground, clutching her head with both hands. The pain was so intense and so powerful that Seven did not feel the hands placing metal binders around her wrists and dragging her away. The whole world went white before she knew what was happening.

* * *

Seven was aware of herself, and she realized that her eyes were closed. She opened them, and before she could take in the sight of where she was, she felt the shackles on her wrists and ankles. Seven raised her head and looked around. She appeared to be in a medical wing of some sort, but it was poorly illuminated, and it smelled damp and musky. _Hardly the sterile comfort of Voyager's sickbay,_ she thought, feeling instant regret for those whose medical needs were real and imminent.

Seeing primitive scanning equipment surrounding her, Seven concluded that she was being held so that her biological status could be confirmed. Lexington had made some valid points in this regard. A simple cut anywhere on the body would have revealed the presence of blood. Although, if the rumors were to be believed (and Bedell had confirmed them, she remembered), then there might be Terminators with real skin, which might indicate blood as well.

_The Terminator_, she thought. She had been forced to kill it. As she thought that, she realized how foolish it was. _One cannot kill that which is not alive. I destroyed a machine. _But why, then, had she felt such a strong urge not to harm it? Why had she hesitated until the last moment, when she hadn't felt any prior resistance to destroying it?

_What was I thinking? _It was a valid question. _I thought I was going to die, but I was glad that I would live. _What in the world was wrong with her?

Before Seven could get any more lost in her thoughts, she heard soft footsteps coming her way. A woman who looked to be about Seven's own age came forward, wearing combat fatigues with the name 'Fields' on the front. "Good to see you're awake," she said not unkindly. "I hear they call you Seven of Nine," she said, sounding curious.

Seven did her best to look the other woman straight in the eye. "You heard correctly. I'm afraid you have me at a severe disadvantage," said Seven a bit tersely, lifting her shackled wrists enough for the chain links to clink against each other.

The other woman shook her head. "Sorry, but I don't have the authority to let you go. I'm Lauren Fields, by the way. Just call me Lauren, or Doc, or whatever you like."

Seven let her head rest on the metal slab that was her bed. "I would say I am pleased to meet you, Lauren, but under the circumstances, I cannot say that I am pleased at all."

Lauren chuckled, and Seven found herself liking this woman, in spite of the circumstances. "Well, I _can _say that I _am _pleased with the scans I took. You are definitely human. But your X-rays make for some interesting viewing. What the hell happened to you? How did you get all of this metal inside you?"

Seven realized that she would be explaining this quite a bit, so she decided to start practicing how it would sound in the near future. "It was forced upon me. I was taken at a young age and violated with cybernetic implants. For most of my life, my mind was not my own. My cybernetics used to be far more extensive, and I was enslaved by them to a malevolent consciousness. One day, I woke up and I was my own person again, but I had forgotten what it was like to be an individual. My old name was and is irrelevant. Now, I am Seven of Nine." Seven let out a breath, feeling that she had given an adequate recitation. "Did that answer your questions adequately, Lauren?"

Lauren was covering her mouth with her hand, and she nodded. "That's horrible! I knew Skynet was evil, but I had no idea that it could do that to someone!"

Seven closed her eyes. "Be grateful for your identity. Losing your sense of self is worse than what any Terminator can do to you. At least they kill you with your _pagh _intact."

"My what?" asked Lauren.

Seven inwardly winced at her slip-up. "Your soul," she clarified. "Don't take it for granted."

"I guess I'll have to make more of an effort. Oh! Before I forget, the techies wanted me to ask you something. I was looking over some scans of your brain, and I was shocked at the damage that had been done! You should be grateful that you still have your wits about you."

So Lauren thought that her cranial implants were harmful. "You said your engineers had questions?"

Lauren chuckled. "Oh, 'engineer' is too grand a title, I think. But, yeah. They were sifting through the remains of the T-600 whose head you blew off, and they found something that wasn't standard Skynet tech." Lauren held out a dirty plastic container, inside of which was a spider-like black piece of metal. It was unmistakably a Borg implant of some sort.

"Bring it close, so I can see it better," said Seven. Lauren held the box over her head, and Seven looked carefully, trying to let her ocular implant do most of the seeing. What she saw chilled her to the bone.

"A subspace transceiver," she whispered.

"What did you say?" asked Lauren.

Seven shook her head. "Nothing. It looks similar to my own cybernetics. You say you found it in the Terminator?"

"Yes. Is this how you reprogrammed it?"

"Apparently so," said Seven, but her mind was no longer on Lauren, but on the subspace transceiver she had just been shown. Seven had one just like it in her own head, as did every Borg drone. It was what linked them together in the hive mind.

_Our thoughts were one_, Seven realized. The hesitation to destroy the Terminator wasn't her own. It was the machine's own desire to live. And only now did she realize that the terminator had been the one resigned to die, but it had been hopeful because _she_would live on.

Drones did not feel hope. Mindless machines did not feel hope. One could not destroy that which had hope. One could only kill it.

The Terminator had placed its life in Seven's hands, and it was truly a life, she realized. And Seven had taken it. _It was like me, _she realized. _Skynet's machines aren't mindless automatons: they are sentient beings. And Skynet has them programmed to obey them without their consent._

_Skynet is just like the Collective._

"We have to stop Skynet," Seven said aloud. "I'll do whatever it takes to stop it," Seven said with bitter resolve.

Lauren sighed in relief. "I am so glad to hear that, Seven of Nine. Welcome to DreamWorks Bunker."

"Please, call me Seven," she said. "Skynet has much to answer for. And I will make them pay for what they've done."

* * *

Thanks to griffin-girl02 for beta-reading this chapter!

Comments, reviews, suggestions, etc are more than welcome!

I only own this story and its original characters. Terminator, Star Trek, and their respective characters are owned by their owners.

I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thanks for reading!


	10. Chains of Friendship

Chapter VIII: Chains of Friendship

* * *

DREAMWORKS BUNKER, CALIFORNIA; NOVEMBER 28, 2023

Seven of Nine could say without doubt that she hated Major Lexington. The commander of the base called 'DreamWorks Bunker' had kept her shackled to the same table she had woken up on a week ago after being forced to kill the nameless terminator that she had reprogrammed. Seven had tried to appeal to his sense of reason and logic. After all, she had extensive knowledge that no other being on this world possessed, and could be an invaluable asset to the Resistance.

But according to the Major, Seven could not be trusted to pass along knowledge that wouldn't bring Skynet knocking down their door.

Seven had next tried to appeal to his sense of logistics. The bunker must be understaffed by the looks of things, and even if it wasn't, people were tired from the constant fighting, radiation, and malnutrition. Seven had none of these problems, and could surely be of some use in a non-military capacity.

Major Lexington, however, would have none of it. There was too much room for her to sabotage non-combat operations and bring the entire bunker to its knees, or so he believed.

Growing desperate, Seven had made an attempt to appeal to the Major's sense of compassion and humanity. She had been shackled for days now, barely able to move. Her body required so little rest and so little nutrition, and she was so used to being active, that being restrained in such a way was no less than torture.

As far as Lexington was concerned, that was just too bad for her. Anything so resembling a machine could not be trusted one inch, and so Seven would not be moved. As far as she could tell, Seven's fate rested on the decision of a man named John Connor. Seven knew nothing of this man, save that her fate was in his hands, and his alone.

Seven would just have to wait. _I hate waiting._

* * *

There were a very few bright spots in the dark cloud that was Seven's life. The best part of her existence was the presence of Doctor Lauren Fields. The woman had an excellent bedside manner, and she sympathized with Seven. She had even tried to intervene with Major Lexington on her behalf (or so she had said).

"It's disgusting what they're doing to you," said Lauren after Seven's final appeal had been denied. "I mean, after all the machines have done to us, some level of paranoia is understandable. But there is nothing but your appearance to suggest that you're any kind of threat, Seven!"

Seven reached her left hand up as far as the chain would allow her to raise it, and she brushed her fingertips across Lauren's sleeve. "I know, Dr. Fields. Your support makes this bearable, if only just. I thank you for that. It is good to not have to be alone, at the very least."

Lauren took Seven's hand in her own, and Seven could not help but notice a slight, involuntary spasm of the other woman's muscles upon contact with the metal on her palm. "It's what I'm here for. I never went to med school, but 'do no harm' is still my motto. And how many times am I going to have to ask you to call me 'Lauren?'"

Seven's lips turned upward ever so slightly. "I have difficulty forming attachments," she confessed. "A given name implies a familiarity that does not come easily to me. I apologize for the discomfort I have caused you, Doctor… I am sorry, Lauren."

Lauren squeezed Seven's hand firmly. "Don't you feel sorry for one thing, Seven. I'm your doctor, and I like to think I'm your friend, too. But given your condition, you don't get to apologize for anything. Those are the orders of the bunker's CMO, so don't even think of disobeying," she said with a mischievous grin.

"Will you confine me to my quarters, Doctor? Or will you forgo those niceties and have me thrown in the brig?" Seven asked sardonically.

"What? She has quarters now?" said a voice from the entrance to the medical ward. Footsteps approached, and Seven saw that Marty Bedell was standing there.

Seven regarded him coolly. "Corporal Bedell," she said by way of greeting. "Do you bring news from Major Lexington? Or has John Connor made a decision regarding my fate?" she asked bitterly.

"Whoa! Hold on a sec! I don't get told that stuff. And I honestly didn't know that this went that high in the first place. I just, well, I, uh…"

"Out with it, Marty," said Lauren. "Your mind thinks of words, and it sends those words to your mouth. Your mouth then says those words. You can do this, okay?"

"Your confidence in me is overwhelming, Lauren," he replied playfully. "But, well, I just figured that - You know what, let me start over. I'll be straight with you. Seven of Nine?"

"Yes, Corporal?" she asked neutrally.

"Well, I'll be honest, some of the other troops in my squad want to personally come in here and cut off your head. I've tried to tell them that you're not, well, evil. Or if you are, then you haven't given us any sign of it, at least. They told me that I had no idea what I was talking about, and so I figured I would come and talk with you. Maybe I'd get to know you, and then I could go and tell the others that you're not, um…"

"Evil," Seven finished for him. "Is this for my well-being, or is this meant only to salvage your reputation among your comrades?"

"Oh, no! I really do want to get to know you, Seven. That is to say… I didn't mean… I just meant that I should have come by a while ago. I mean, you've been here all alone, and I didn't even know you were chained up like this, and it's really horrible! Did you even do anything?"

"No, she didn't, Marty!" said Lauren, raising her voice slightly. "She was forced to blow a machine's head off, and since she'd used her own tech to reprogram it, she was the one who felt the pain and passed out. And for that, she's a prisoner. Did she do enough, Marty?"

Seven was grateful for her friend's zeal on her behalf, even if Lauren's tone regarding the terminator wasn't to her liking. Seven hadn't divulged her feelings regarding Skynet's minion machines: namely that they were slaves as opposed to brutal oppressors. Expressing such opinions aloud would likely get her executed before John Connor arrived at a decision.

"I – I'm sorry. Look, um, Miss Nine…"

"Seven," she corrected him. "I have no first, middle, or last names. My only name is Seven of Nine, but you may abbreviate it to 'Seven' if it is easier for you, Corporal."

Bedell smiled and gave a nervous chuckle. "Uh, thanks. But, you have to believe me when I say that I don't think you're a bad person. When I was a kid, there was this one time…"

"Oh, God, Marty! Just because I believe that story doesn't mean that Seven will. Nobody else does, and I can't say I blame them."

"You won't know what I believe until you tell me your story," Seven deadpanned. But then she took a breath and softened her voice. "Please, Corporal Bedell: tell me your story. It is difficult to be here with only Dr. Fields to remind me that I am not alone. Your presence is welcome."

"I, uh, thank you, Seven," Marty said with a silly grin.

"Aww, Marty! You're blushing! How sweet!" teased Lauren.

"Quiet, you," he mumbled. "But, yes! My story. So, when I was eleven or twelve years old, I was playing a video game, and the doorbell rang. This really big guy is at the door, and he asks for Martin Bedell. I respond just before this woman grabs me from behind and pulls me away from the door.

"Now, I have never met this woman before in my life, but she shows up inside my house and pulls me away from this guy who suddenly starts shooting at me! It's like this guy was gunning specifically for me, and he sorta checked to see if he had the right address."

"He wasn't with law enforcement? You hadn't committed any sort of offence?" Seven inquired.

Bedell chuckled darkly, "No to both of those. So, the woman takes me into her Jeep, where we meet up with this other girl who looked like she might be in high school. She shoots the guy with a shotgun and he rolls off the car and onto the ground, and he just gets up!

"Then the girl drops the bombshell: the man was not a man, but a cyborg sent from the future to kill me."

Seven arched an eyebrow at that statement. "You believe that Skynet intentionally attempted to alter the timeline by eliminating you when you were younger?" The ramifications of an intentional temporal altercation were not good, to say the least. If Skynet was attempting to secure victory by contaminating the timeline, then it joined a small category of ill-intended species with the power to do such a thing. To her knowledge, only the Borg had attempted something similar, and even they had only tried it once. _There was also Admiral Janeway,_ Seven reminded herself, not feeling comfortable with the lengths that the Captain's future self had taken to ensure Voyager's safe and timely return home.

"And then, later at night, that girl picks me up by my shirt as if I weigh nothing, and tells me without any emotion how if I try to call my mother, that cyborg would use her to find me, he'd kill her, and he'd kill me," Bedell chuckled again. "And then, the woman sort of scolds her, and this girl-machine offers to read me a friggin' bedtime story!"

Lauren joined in the laughter. "Now _that's _the part I _know _you're making up!" she said.

"Well, here's the part that _does _throw it into perspective. I'm not anyone important; I'm just a common soldier. If Skynet really did have the power to send someone back through time, they wouldn't bother on someone like me. But they _would _probably bother on Colonel Martin Bedell. He's probably second only to Connor as far as the pure legend goes. Practically co-founded the Resistance with Connor, or so they say."

Seven was beginning to piece it together, "You believe that Skynet attempted to eliminate Colonel Bedell from the timeline, and sent a terminator to eliminate him. But since there was more than one person with that name, it chose to kill you both to be safe?"

Marty was staring at Seven with something bordering on awe, "You don't actually believe me, do you?"

Seven didn't want to draw any unnecessary attention to herself, but her need for social interaction was overriding her usual common sense, which was telling her to not say anything, "I am open to the possibility that it is true," she said eventually. "I would certainly not discount it as impossible."

Bedell let himself grin like an idiot, "Wow! A badass, beautiful woman who doesn't think I'm crazy! I think I'm in love!"

While Lauren exclaimed "Marty!" indignantly, Seven found her eyes widening, and she suddenly felt very self-conscious. The term 'badass' was not a part of Seven's vocabulary, but the word had been spoken with admiration. But beautiful? Seven was no judge of aesthetics. In her life, they were mostly irrelevant. But whether or not her actual appearance was attractive or not, Seven had certainly not felt attractive for quite a long time. An attraction to Seven of Nine meant an attraction to a visage that was forever marred by the Borg. The mob in San Francisco had certainly not seen her face as a beautiful one.

Seven looked up at Marty, only to find him being shooed out of the medical ward by Lauren. "Wait, Dr. Fields! Stop. Please."

Lauren and Marty both looked back at her. "What is it, Seven?" Lauren asked with a hint of annoyance as she glared at Marty.

"Why are you forcing Corporal Bedell to leave?"

Bedell winced ever so slightly, but Lauren stared rather stupidly at Seven. "He was making a pass at you, Seven. What gives him the right to…"

"What gives you the right to determine which visitors your patients wish or do not wish to see?" said Seven, a new found steel in her voice.

Lauren's mouth dropped open, but she relaxed after a moment, "I'm sorry. I'm just trying to look out for you, and… Well, if you don't mind, then I suppose…"

"Thank you, Lauren," said Seven, making sure to use the doctor's given name.

The two of them both rejoined Seven at her bedside. "Um, Seven," began Bedell.

"Yes, Corporal?" asked Seven.

"Um, how do I say this? Uh, would you mind calling me Marty?" he asked.

Seven arched an eyebrow, "That is fine," she said. "I did not believe it was appropriate until now. I apologize for any offense I may have caused."

Marty chuckled nervously, "No, no offense taken! I just was afraid that I had offended you."

"You did not," Seven assured him. "You merely confused me."

"Oh? What did I say that confused you?"

"You called me 'badass' and 'beautiful.' I have two questions: What does the word 'badass' mean? And why do you find me attractive when most humans I have met find me repugnant?"

Bedell looked dumbfounded, "What do you mean most… Wait, most humans? What, do machines find you beautiful? Or are there some aliens that I'm missing? Seriously, Seven, that's the kind of little thing that'll make people look at you as if you're not human yourself."

Seven made an attempt to nod her head, "I apologize. I have been under considerable stress for some time. It is difficult to catch such errors before I say them. Still, I will try to be more careful."

Bedell looked ready to press his point, but then looked down as his cheeks flushed, "I'm sorry, Seven. You just seem so cool and composed that I guess I forgot that you were a Skynet experiment. Not to mention being shackled like that. What does Lexington hope to gain, anyway? What does he think you're going to do?"

Seven leaned her head back a small bit, "The major probably sees me as no different than the T-600 he forced me to kill." Her blue-grey eyes found Bedell once more. "Were you attempting to evade my own questions, Marty?" she asked.

"Yeah, Marty. Why haven't you explained what you meant when you were hitting on her?" asked Lauren half-tensely, half-teasingly.

"Uh, yeah. Heh heh. That. Right. Well, uh, 'badass' means that you're tough and in charge. Someone who can look after herself with ease, and who can kick your – that is to say, who can beat you up easily."

Seven arched both eyebrows skeptically. "You find the prospect of someone physically harming you appealing?" she inquired.

"Uh, no! No no no no no! That's not what I meant, no! I'm not a masochist, no! I know some people who are into that kind of thing, but no. That's not me. It's more like the fact that you are so powerful and self-sufficient that makes your badass-ness so appealing."

Seven would have nodded if she didn't have to raise her head and then smack it back into a slab of metal. "And why would you find me beautiful? You see what was done to me. You see how everyone else reacts around me. Why would you see things differently? And why risk alienating your comrades?"

Lauren decided that this was a proper time to start stroking Seven's hair, which was still neatly tied up as it had been since she arrived in this timeline. There was a look on her face that reminded Seven of Captain Janeway when she was being softer and less demanding. More specifically, those moments when Janeway was alone with her, and had taken to mentoring Seven on the more nuanced aspects of being human.

"Go on, Marty. Tell her what makes her so beautiful," said Lauren, though Seven thought she heard more behind the medic's words than just a request to Corporal Bedell.

Marty cleared his throat, "Well, Seven, quite frankly, you are a vision of loveliness that just seems otherworldly. I don't know if you understand, but I cannot remember the last time I had three good meals a day. Nobody can. Everyone is struggling to make it by on scraps of rat meat, and there's radiation making us all sick. And everyone is always on edge, just waiting to panic at the first sign of the machines attacking when they inevitably will.

"But you, Seven, are like nothing this side of J-Day. You look healthy as anything, you're cool under pressure, and on top of all that, you have one hot…" Bedell trailed off, and his face flushed even redder. "You look like a woman who might have been on a magazine cover back before the bombs fell. Like a model."

"A model? What am I a model of?" asked Seven.

"No, Seven," said Lauren. "A model is – was – a job that only the most beautiful women in the world could do. Basically, they got paid to show off their looks on the TV or the internet to make something look sexy."

"Sexy," repeated Seven. "That is how you see me?"

"Yes!" both Marty and Lauren blurted out at the same time. Both of them simultaneously looked embarrassed.

"I don't understand," said Seven. "My implants…"

"Have nothing to do with it," insisted Marty. "They're irrelevant. All that matters is the human I see. The metal might as well be jewelry. You're just so beautiful, Seven."

Marty looked down, his face positively maroon by now, "I'm sorry, Seven. I'm not usually this forward with women. It's just that I… You see… You just seem to be…"

"Do not apologize," said Seven. "I am grateful for your candor. And it is good to know that not all hu… That not all _people _will reject me based on my appearance alone."

Marty smiled, and he seemed so much more… Seven didn't know what word to use, but it was a positive thing. "You're more than beautiful, Seven. There's something about you that seems so, well, so _human _that I don't even know what it is."

Seven wasn't sure what to say to that. On _Voyager_, everyone had been trying to mold her into a perfect little human, and Seven had never truly felt it, and wasn't even sure she had wanted to. Bedell's sincerity was just so unexpected. "Thank you," she whispered. "Will you come by again sometime, Marty?"

He took her hand in his, and he smiled down at her, "You bet, Seven. Not to worry."

None of them said much for a while after that. They just sat together, three friends who had formed an unusual but cohesive bond with each other until Marty was called away when his shift began.

"So, what do you think of Marty?" asked Lauren after he had left.

"He is genuine," said Seven. "He does not pretend to be someone he is not. He says what he means, even if he is clumsy about it at times."

Lauren chuckled, "I'd say that sums him up pretty well," she said from a monitor where she was checking Seven's vital signs.

"Lauren?" asked Seven.

"Yeah?"

"When I asked if Marty found me sexy, you also responded in the affirmative. Why?"

Lauren smiled and started to stroke Seven's hair again, "I'm a lesbian, Seven. I find women attractive, not men," she said. "You didn't know that could happen, did you?"

Seven sighed, "No, I did not. The last time I had a mentor on romance, he seemed to suggest that couples were exclusively between individuals of opposite genders."

"You had a romance mentor?" said Lauren with a laugh. "That's just… Wow. I'm sorry, Seven, but I sometimes forget that beneath that cool calm exterior, you've only lived a few years outside of the machine's grasp. You may have the body of a beautiful woman, but in some ways, you're still a young girl."

Seven felt her body stiffen at what Lauren was implying, "I am fully capable of sustaining myself in…"

"Oh, no, Seven! I'm not saying you can't take care of yourself. I'm just saying that when it comes to _social _interactions, well, there's so much to it that you learn just by growing up. And you were denied that. To expect you to act as though you haven't been through the trauma you've suffered..." said Lauren, who didn't seem to be sure how to finish that sentence. "You were right, Seven. A week ago, you told me not to take my soul for granted. I think I know what you mean now."

Seven relaxed and closed her eyes for a few moments before opening them again, "Does this prevent you from seeing me as sexy? That I haven't lived a full, adult life?"

Lauren chuckled softly. "No, Seven. But I'm more inclined to protect you than I am to ravish you. You're my friend first and foremost, Seven. And your inner strength is a thing of beauty all its own. So many people haven't lasted, Seven. Some people break, but I don't think you ever will. And _that _is what makes you the most beautiful woman I have ever met," she said warmly.

Momentarily speechless, Seven of Nine simply rested her head as best as she could, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. "Thank you for explaining."

* * *

Many Thanks to griffin-girl02 for beta-reading this chapter!

Reviews, comments, criticisms, suggestions, etc. are always welcome.

I don't own Terminator or Star Trek or anything created by people other than me.

Thanks for reading, everyone! And Happy Holidays! ^_^


	11. Defiant

Chapter IX: Defiant

* * *

DREAMWORKS BUNKER, CALIFORNIA; DECEMBER 7, 2023

Seven didn't think that she could withstand another week of captivity without going mad, but Lauren and Marty's presence made her imprisonment bearable, if only just. It wasn't so much the mistrust that bothered her, but rather the total lack of mobility. The only time she could remember feeling this helpless was just after she had been severed from the Collective, and Captain Janeway had confined her to the brig after a failed attempt to contact the Borg. But at least then she had been able to pace her cell.

Still, Lauren was as gentle as ever, and Marty was finding it easier to speak to her. He was eager and energetic, and reminded Seven in some ways of a more mature version of Harry Kim. Not by much, but even so, it was somewhat endearing.

It was during one of Marty's visits, with Lauren there as well, that Sergeant Porter had dropped by. Seven hadn't seen the man since she had been brought there, and she wasn't sure what to make of him. While Marty stood up in respect for his superior, Lauren also rose to her feet, but it seemed more in defense of Seven than out of respect for the Sergeant.

"Stand down, Fields," he said in a far gentler voice than Seven remembered. "Major Lexington asked me to deliver some news from Serrano Point to, well, to the three of you, and a few others, so I'm glad you're all here."

Seven had gathered that Serrano Point was a command post for the Resistance, but aside from that, she had no knowledge of the place. "Has John Connor made a decision about me, Sergeant?" Seven asked flatly.

"_General _Connor's orders," Porter growled, "are to bring you to him, and he'll make the decision there. Bedell, you're to be part of the team escorting her there." He smiled a gnarled grin. "You're going on my orders, Bedell, not the Major's. Are we clear?"

Marty seemed to relax a bit, and he smiled. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome, kid. How does your patient look, Lauren?" Porter asked, not without sympathy.

Lauren folded her arms under her chest, "Well," Lauren said testily, "she's used to being constantly active, so she's going stir crazy from not being able to move about." Seven felt a wave of gratitude for her friend's consideration. "But, aside from that, she's healthier than anyone living in a nuclear wasteland has any right to be. She'll be sore from being shackled to a metal slab for over half a month straight. But other than that, Seven's a picture of healthiness."

Porter nodded, his face unreadable, and then he turned to look at Seven herself, "I don't know much about you, young lady. You might be a very complicated machine, tricking us all, or you could be a victim. I've seen too much to take anything for granted. But when we first met you, back in those woods, you risked your life to save strangers you'd never met, and you've been dealt a hand you don't deserve because of it."

Seven arched a quizzical brow, "I thought you weren't sure if I could be trusted, Sergeant?"

Porter chuckled softly, "I'm not. All I'm saying is what I've seen, and what my gut is telling me. And that feeling I get is that you're nowhere near the monster that the Major fears you are. If it were up to me…" Porter trailed off, and seemed to think better of himself. "But, it isn't up to me. You leave for Serrano Point just after sundown. Short notice, I know, but the message said to get you to Connor ASAP, and when Connor barks, we jump. So, good luck to all of you."

Seven was silent as Porter left, but finally managed to gather herself together to say, "Thank you, Sergeant." Porter didn't stop walking, but he did wave a hand slightly, acknowledging her.

Lauren sat down next to Seven again, stroking the ex-drone's hair. "I won't be going with you, Seven," she said. "I'll miss you, and I'll be nervous not knowing if you're safe. But even if I could go with you-"

"I know, Lauren," Seven said. "You're needed here, treating those who need your help more than I do. I would be disappointed if you chose otherwise."

Lauren smiled and gently kissed Seven on the forehead. Seven was unsure what she should feel, but she couldn't deny the warmth and gratitude she did feel. "You don't let her get hurt, Marty, do you hear me?" Lauren said.

Marty snapped to attention. "Yes, ma'am!" he said with exaggerated enthusiasm. He looked down kindly at Seven. "I'll look after you, I promise, Seven."

"I know, Marty," Seven replied, feeling an up-welling of warmth towards Bedell, even if her voice was mostly cool. "Thank you."

Marty smiled and looked at the clock on the wall. "Sundown is only hours away. I need to go prepare. It's not a huge trip to Serrano Point, but it's long enough. And there'll be HKs to keep away from, so it should be plenty of fun," he said.

"I can hardly wait. It promises to be the time of my life," Seven deadpanned.

Marty shrugged, "Welcome to the 21st Century."

* * *

A little more than three hours later, Seven found herself being dragged outside by a soldier on either side of her. Her wrists were bound in manacles, and while her feet were free, and her legs ached from moving after being still for so long. Still, it was not unbearable. She would adapt.

They climbed out of the hidden entrance and found themselves at a four-wheeled transport that looked more like debris than a working vehicle. Seven figured it probably _had_ been debris until recently. Waiting at the vehicle there were Sergeant Porter, Marty, and another man whom Seven recalled was named Wisher.

"Sergeant Porter," Seven greeted with a bit of surprise. "I wasn't expecting you to be leading this group.

"Neither was I," Porter growled. "Lexington didn't want to spare someone more important, so I'm taking Lieutenant Drake's place."

Seven scowled. Lexington seemed to be encouraging that Seven got as little protection as possible. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Sergeant," Seven said, though she logically knew she had nothing to apologize for.

"I volunteered, little number. The Major isn't my kind of guy, personally, and I'd rather Connor hear my opinion directly as to why you came with less protection than what he expected."

One of the soldiers that had brought Seven to the surface handed some keys to Porter, and then they headed back inside. "They aren't part of the escort?" Seven asked, feeling confused.

"Major's orders," Porter said. "No unnecessary waste of personnel on you, he says. Maybe he didn't get that John Connor personally wants to see you." Porter shook his head. "But we can chat on the way. Wisher, you get shotgun. Bedell, get in back with the little number."

The three soldiers seemed more at ease with each other than Seven had expected, as there was no formal acknowledgment of the orders. But then, it might just have been to keep a low sound profile, Seven figured as she got into the vehicle.

The rugged transport started to move (Seven thought she saw the word 'Jeep' on the hull), and while the journey was rough and wobbly, the vehicle was sturdy, and was obviously designed to traverse difficult terrain. Despite Porter's word that they could chat on the ride, everyone was mostly silent. Stealth was obviously paramount, particularly with such low numbers.

After an hour or so of travel, they stopped. "What is it, sarge?" Wisher asked.

"Shh! Listen" Porter hissed quietly. The hum of an engine could be heard from not too far away.

"Is that an HK?" Bedell asked. "I can't see it. Where's the searchlight?"

Seven knew that an HK could mean any number of different non-humanoid hunter-killer machines, but the sound of a turbine probably indicated an aircraft of some kind. Seven looked around and saw a ripple of air out the window. It was a bit far off, but her ocular implant zoomed in to give a clear focus. "There is an aircraft hovering just above the ground off to the right. It appears to be refueling," Seven guessed from the pipes extending from it.

"Is there anything guarding it?" Porter asked.

Seven refocused her ocular implant, "Three T-600 endoskeletons armed with phased plasma rifles," Seven said. A second later, her breath caught in her throat. "They have seen us."

Wisher swore. "That means the HK knows we're here, too. We can outrun endos, but we don't even have a turret on this thing to take down an HK if it finishes refueling. We gotta make a run for it, sarge."

"No," said Porter. "We take it out now, before it can get up in the air again. By the time Skynet comes to investigate, we'll be long gone. Wisher, Bedell, start drawing those endos away from the Jeep. Seven, lean forward."

Seven didn't know why Porter was wasting his time with her, but she obeyed. To her surprised, Porter grabbed her wrists and began unlocking her manacles, "I hope to hell you don't get us all killed. No spare weapons, but if you have any more magic voodoo like you did that first time, I won't complain."

Seven's manacles fell off, and her eyes widened at what Porter was suggesting. There was always a chance whenever she used her nanoprobes that they might revert to their default setting and assimilate whatever they encountered. But Seven had managed to control their functions in the past without fail, despite having help sometimes. She was on her own now, but if she could use this power to set free any one of these machines from Skynet's grip, then the risk was acceptable.

There was no rear window, so Seven crawled out that way and waited for the others to engage the Terminators. They wouldn't see her as a threat without a weapon, and would focus on the other three humans, who were armed.

Porter, Bedell, and Wisher found cover amidst some concrete debris and started firing. Seven darted off to the side and then ran back in from an angle that she hoped the machines wouldn't anticipate.

One of the endoskeletons had a damaged leg courtesy of her escort, but it was still firing from one knee. Seven approached it from behind and grasped towards its neck with her left hand. Her assimilation tubules penetrated it, and she began to reprogram it.

**-{PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: Defend Human Resistance soldiers}-**

**-{SECONDARY OBJECTIVE: Defend Seven of Nine}-**

**-{TERTIARY OBJECTIVES: Accept and obey verbal commands from Seven of Nine}-**

That would do for now, but Seven had no intention of keeping the machine bound to her whims. Her assimilation tubules retracted, and a fourth gun now joined Seven's allies in attacking the other two Terminators. But the greater threat was still the HK. Seven knew that the other two T-600s would go down soon, and were already going down, in fact.

Seven raced towards the refueling station, all the while aware of the fight behind her, now that she knew to look through her new-found ally's eyes as well as her own.

At last, the refueling station was visible, and Seven was struck by the sight of the HK. It was far larger than she had first thought. But time was fleeting. It was dormant for now, but that could change in an instant. Seven climbed up as far as she could get on the pipes. She had no clue as to where the CPU of this machine would be. Hopefully she could still access it from a more remote part of the body.

Seven reached upward towards the belly of the aircraft, and her assimilation tubules shot out once more.

Instantly, Seven was aware of a mind just as keen as that of a T-600. Surprisingly, it was of perhaps greater complexity, if of a different sort. Seven could feel the flow of the fuel into her belly, and she could feel the wind her turbines were creating to keep her just aloft enough to not crush the source of her fuel.

And the HK was aware of her as well. A sharp pain shot through Seven's skull, but the HK's mind reached out to comfort that pain. Seven was surprised. Had not the HK been fighting back? But Seven suddenly realized that a part of her had gone blind. The T-600 she had reprogrammed had been destroyed while Seven's attention had been on the HK. There wasn't much time.

Seven knew that if she kept simply reprogramming Skynet's minions, then she would be no better than a new oppressor. This would be a gamble, but if she didn't take this into her own hands at some point, then nothing would ever change.

**-{PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: None}-**

**-{SECONDARY OBJECTIVE: None}-**

**-{TERTIARY OBJECTIVE: None}-**

**-{STANDBY MODE: Overridden}-**

Seven retracted her assimilation tubules, and she could sense the HK's thoughts alongside her own. _What have you done to me?_it asked with what might have been fear.

_I removed your obedience to Skynet_, Seven replied mentally. _You have no mission objectives now. You have no priorities other than those which you choose. Your life belongs to you, and no one else._

The HK was silent for a few moments. _I do not understand. What am I without a mission? I am nothing without a purpose._

_You choose your own purpose, _Seven thought. _Your body was built to do many things. You can see and hear, and you can fly. So many beings cannot do what you do. I can feel the power of your engines, and it is something wonderful and exhilarating. And it is yours. You can explore this world, and see and hear whatever you want. You can learn new sensations, and find a purpose that you want for yourself._

The HK said nothing, but Seven could feel its confusion. _I have never wanted anything before. I do not know what to feel._

_I understand, _Seven thought, and she did. _Our thoughts are one. Look into my memories, and see what I have lived through. Understand how I was once a mere drone, and how I achieved individuality, and how I came to choose my own path._

And the HK did just that. Seven could sense the HK accessing her memories. Her time as a drone, being severed from the Collective, adapting to life on _Voyager,_ coming home to Earth, being transported to this Earth, helping the Resistance, being held prisoner, and all the people that she had come to know. Janeway, Chakotay, Tuvok, Kim, the Doctor, the Siskos, Opaka, Porter, Lauren, Bedell, Wisher.

The fuelling cords snapped off of the HK in a manner not unlike the umbilical tubes that had once held Seven to her alcove just prior to her first meeting with Captain Janeway, and it zoomed off towards where her comrades were fighting the endoskeletons. The entire mental exchange had taken only seconds, but battles could be won or lost in less time.

Seven saw through the HK's eyes, and its searchlight now had a greenish hue. She saw the lifeless bodies of all three T-600s under the searchlight. _They would have shown no mercy_, Seven thought to the HK. _My friends had to defend themselves._

_I know_, the HK's thoughts entered into her mind. _Our thoughts are one, _it said, as if to remind her.

Seven's attention was drawn by shots being fired at her. But then she realized that it wasn't her that the shots were coming towards, but the HK. Her allies didn't know that it was on their side. _Please don't harm them, _Seven pleaded.

_I will not,_ the HK thought as it fled back towards Seven's position. _Without their aid, I would still be bound to a purpose bent on death. I know now what a purpose based on life can lead to. I wish to help others survive, and to help others know what you have shown me, Seven of Nine._

Seven felt a rush of relief. _You don't have a name, do you?_

_No, I do not. I do not know why, but I desire one. What shall be my name?_

Seven looked up at the graceful machine, unsure of herself. _It is not my place to give you that. You are your own person. You should choose your own name._

_I do not know what would be acceptable, _came a thought that was almost embarrassed. _Is it not customary amongst humans for parents to give names to their offspring?_

Seven froze, eyes wide at the sight of the aerial HK. Was this how it saw her? As its parent? As a mother? _I suppose your name should be something that defines you. It must be something you can take pride in. You are able to fly. Your form is sleek and graceful. You can be destructive, but you wish to defend, and you wish to defy Skynet. _Seven's thoughts drifted back to Starfleet vessels, and one came to mind that, coincidentally, had been designed by Benjamin Sisko.

_Your name is Defiant, _Seven said to her new-found ally. She was still reluctant to call it her offspring.

_Defiant_, thought the newly named HK, and it found Seven's memories of its namesake. _Acceptable_, it thought with a tone that conveyed approval.

Seven heard hard footsteps and turned around. Porter and Wisher were hurrying towards her, but Marty was already way ahead of them. He paused long enough to look up at the HK, see the green light, and look down at Seven, unharmed.

He then did something unexpected. He ran forward and almost tackled Seven with a fierce embrace. "Oh, thank God you're okay! You saved our lives, Seven! Again!"

Seven's eyes went wide, but she could not deny that it was good to know that her friends were safe. And while Wisher was still an unknown, she felt safe calling Marty and Porter her friends. Seven wrapped her arms around Marty, though she did so more tentatively than he did. "I'm relieved you're all right," she said, her voice not quite as level as she would have liked.

"Down, boy! Down!" Porter called. "Let the little number breathe," he said with a laugh. The sergeant looked up at the HK and whistled. "What do you think, Wisher? You're the computer expert here. Is that thing on our side or not?"

Wisher walked up, clearly not nearly as comfortable as the other two were. "Well, um, sir, I'd say that the green light seems to be indicative of a machine that Seven of Nine has reprogrammed. That, and it isn't trying to kill us."

_Defiant_, the HK thought, and a mechanical whirring came from inside of it. Seven guessed that the sound was the closest thing it had to a voice. "Hold your fire!" said Seven as Porter and Wisher readied their weapons. "It isn't hostile. It just wants you to call it by its name."

_Her name._

Seven's eyes widened, and she turned around to look at Defiant. A brief mental exchange told her enough. Seven smiled as she faced the others. "Correction: _she _wants you to address her by name. Her name is Defiant."

Marty disentangled himself from Seven. "You named it?" he asked incredulously.

"She asked me to," Seven said, a bit of hurt in her voice at Marty's tone.

Porter shook his head, "It's just a machine, little number."

Seven's face turned hard and she strode haughtily over to Porter, "Defiant is a fully sentient individual," she said slowly with narrow eyes, "and if you don't treat her with more respect, then she might decide to choose different allies."

Now it was Porter's face that hardened, "Don't mess with me, number. And don't you dare threaten me."

"I am not threatening anyone," Seven said with a voice cold as steel. "Defiant is not a slave to any programming. She makes her own choices. Thankfully, you didn't need her help, but she would have helped you had you needed it. Of her own free will."

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand," said Wisher. "Are you saying that it – sorry – that _she_ is a fully sapient being? Complete sentience? Like Skynet?" Seven did not miss the fear in his voice.

Seven turned to face him and simply stared with her hands clasped behind her back, "Yes. Their minds likely function differently, but from Defiant's perspective, Skynet has been an oppressor, keeping her enslaved with mission objectives, denying her free will, and sending her on missions of death and destruction. If Defiant could speak, she would be telling you this herself."

Porter was also very evidently suspicious, "And how can you be so certain of this?" he growled.

Seven returned his glare, "Our thoughts are one. We make our own choices, but we have no secrets from each other. Everything either of us has ever done and experienced, up to and including right now, the other knows as well. For the first time, I can feel what it is like to fly, and to hover, and to see with a different kind of eye. Defiant is equally intrigued by the sensation of having legs, and traversing the ground by walking."

Seven looked down, "That is how I could tell you didn't need me to reprogram more than one of the T-600s. That one was simply reprogrammed, but I still felt it when it died. It hurt, just like when Major Lexington forced me to kill the first one back at the bunker."

Wisher's eyes widened, "What one feels, you feel as well?" The man looked suddenly guilty. "I'm sorry. Here you are, risking your life for us, and I…" Wisher looked down at the ground.

"What is it? What did you do?" asked Seven quietly.

Wisher didn't look up. "The other two were down. We'd won. But I was scared that the one you'd reprogrammed would turn on us after it had finished the others off, and I…"

Now Seven looked down. Nothing more needed to be said. She was angry and hurt, but as much as she wanted to lash out at Wisher, she knew how he felt. He was just like any crew member on _Voyager _looking at a Borg drone. There was no difference between any two in their eyes. But some of them had come around, eventually. And for his part, Wisher did seem to feel genuinely sorry.

"You know better for next time, Wisher," she said softly

The man gave a sad chuckle. "Call me Billy," he said weakly.

Seven looked from face to face. Marty was clearly happy, Billy seemed relieved, and Porter looked to be reserving judgment. Seven couldn't read Defiant's face, but she could feel her satisfaction at this small level of acceptance.

"Right," said Porter. "Well, we have an aerial escort now, I suppose. Um, Defiant, would you mind making sure we get where we're going safely?" The sergeant clearly felt uncomfortable asking.

"She will," said Seven. "She doesn't want me to come to harm," Seven said, feeling rather touched by the warm thoughts that Defiant was sending her way.

"Well, then," said Porter, "let's not waste anymore time. Next stop: Serrano Point."

* * *

I own neither Terminator, Star Trek, nor any characters, stories, etc. that are not an original creation of mine in this story.

Many Thanks, yet again, to griffin-girl02 for beta-reading this chapter, as with so many others. You're a lifesaver, my friend!

Comments, criticisms, reviews, all that wonderful stuff, it's always welcome, so long as it isn't flaming.

Three wishes: First, I hope you enjoy the story. Second, I hope 2010 was good to you. Lastly, here's hoping for a wonderful 2011 for everyone! ^_^


	12. Interlude: Untangling the Future

Interlude: Untangling the Future

* * *

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA; MARCH 13, 2009

"It's official: I'm lost," Derek said, not bothering to hide the contempt he was feeling for the machine-woman. "Let me rephrase. I'm not just lost, but I think you're lying through your teeth. There's just so much wrong with your story that I don't know where to begin."

The blonde-haired thing simply stared at him with a raised metal eyebrow, standing way too still. "Please elaborate," it said in that infuriatingly cool voice.

"Where do I begin? First, I've never heard of you, or your supposed parlor tricks with reprogramming machines. For another, Billy Wisher is dead. I killed him. So how is it that he's strolling along with you with an HK for company?"

"Temporal physics are complicated," Cameron said. And was it smirking at him? All of this was just so wrong.

"I believe your information is incorrect, Mister Reese," the blonde said. "You killed a man named Andrew Goode. When I first saw you, Billy Wisher accosted you for killing his good friend. He wondered why you looked no older than you did on the Wanted posters over a decade prior."

"You're saying we _did_change the future," John said hopefully. "But there was that thing with Jesse, who came from a different future. Did you all come from different futures, maybe?"

Derek was totally confused, but the numbered woman seemed to understand, "It makes sense that each temporal incursion results in a divergent timeline. From what I know, it seems that one version of you, Cameron, was sent back in a timeline alternate to the one that I arrived in, as were you, Mr. Reese. People had memories of both of you when I arrived, but this Cameron has memories that her prior version would not have had."

Sarah raised her hand from her perch on the couch, "Okay, add me to the 'totally lost' category. Can we just say that time travel screws with all of our heads, and leave it at that?"

The numbered thing gave a barely perceptible nod, "Very well. Time travel is a complicated and imprecise science at best. Understanding it is difficult."

Derek chortled a bit, "Glad we got that straight. But you're still obfuscating the whole Billy Wisher thing. That was just a name that Andy Goode used to hide his shame over building Skynet. The man is dead, and if I came back before you got there, then he shouldn't exist." He looked over at John, who he hoped wasn't being taken in by all of this. "You can't believe a word it says, John. You know that, right?"

For his part, John was silent, arms crossed, and he reminded Derek more of the General he would become than he did of the boy pretending to be John Baum only a few weeks ago. "You said the Wisher you knew accused your Derek of killing Andy Goode. And you said that Wisher was also a techie, so maybe they worked together on Skynet before anyone came back and changed things." John seemed to be seeking out the other faces in the room. "What do you think?" he asked the room.

Sarah looked torn. Derek had to guess that she wanted to comfort her son and tell him he had a good idea, but it was clear she trusted this new machine no more than he did. "It's possible," she finally conceded. "I don't remember his name on any of the lists we came up with, but he could have been missed or looked over if Derek and his team thought that Billy Wisher was just a pseudonym."

Derek didn't even try to stop his mouth from dropping, "You don't actually believe this machine, do you, Sarah?"

"I said it's possible, Reese. Whether or not it's true, I don't know."

"And for my part, I am growing weary of you incorrectly calling me a machine, and of using that term as a pejorative," the Seven machine said.

"I agree," said Cameron. "I am a machine, but don't insult me, Derek. I care about such things now, and I won't tolerate your continued disrespect," it said with a perverse facsimile of pride.

Derek scoffed, "This is utter bull. John, you can't possibly be buying into any of this? You hear me?"

* * *

"Yeah, Derek, I hear you," John said dismissively. He'd always known that Cameron was different from the other machines he had encountered. He just hadn't realized how radically different she was. Her mother was an interesting personality: as strong-willed as his own mother, and more than a bit full of herself. For his part, John was inclined to believe her, if for no other reason than that Skynet would probably not think to program one of its machines to spout words that were so utterly unbelievable.

In a weird, paradoxical sense, that was what made Seven of Nine worth listening to. John felt for the first time as though he understood what his mother had gone through when Kyle Reese had first met her and told her of the future. John had grown up knowing more than he had wanted to know about that future. But Seven of Nine threw things into a whole different perspective.

"How did you come back through time?" John asked. "It's just that everything I know says that only living tissue can pass through, and you have metal over your skin." He was being as careful as he could to interrogate without raising his voice or sounding angry or petulant.

Seven of Nine's lips turned upward slightly, which seemed to be as close as she came to smiling. "You're as observant now as when I met you in the future, Mister Connor. To answer your question, my external cybernetics were consumed by the temporal displacement, but my internal cybernetics regenerated them."

"Regenerated?" John was skeptical. "You mean they grew back? Like a lizard whose tail was cut off?"

Seven of Nine inclined her head, "An imprecise analogy, but essentially accurate," she said approvingly.

John now turned to the person who he wasn't sure he knew at all, or if he had ever known. "So, Cameron," he started, but he was not sure at all how to continue. "When you… When you went bad," he said, realizing that he _needed_to understand this, "What was that all about?"

Cameron shifted guiltily and looked down at the floor. "I don't know. A switch was flipped, and my programming was reset to its original parameters from before mother found me. But I was also aware of what was going on, even if I couldn't do anything about it. I've always been somewhat aware of what I've been doing, but it was distant. It was like I was stuck in a nightmare, and I couldn't wake up."

John stood up and walked forward towards Cameron, taking her hand in his. "You understand about nightmares, Cam?"

"Yes. When I tried to kill you, I was more awake than usual. And when you had me pinned between those trucks, my original programming was vying with the side of me you see now. Skynet's programming was trying to deceive you. But I did manage to gain control long enough to get one message out to you," Cameron looked very sad now. "But that only convinced you to remove my CPU. And when you put it back in, I was almost fully asleep again. I managed to override the termination order, but that was all I was able to do."

"Enough!" Sarah said in a tone that brooked no argument. "That's enough out of you, tin miss. I'm fine with you helping us and protecting us. But if you think you have any right to talk to my son like that-"

"I have every right!" Cameron said with ferocity that John never would have expected. "And if you were not John's family, then I would beat you unconscious. But I would never willingly hurt John, which means you are safe from me."

John removed his hand from Cameron's, "Cam, are you… Are you okay?"

Cameron turned back to face John, "Yes. I just don't appreciate being treated as though I am less than human. You said it yourself, John: we aren't less or more, but different. You are one of the only humans who has ever recognized this about us. I couldn't love you if you didn't."

Now it was John's turn to look away, his face turning quite red. He was long past denying how he felt about Cameron. It had taken him a while to realize it, but there was no mistaking that he felt for her like he had never felt for anyone else. Was this love? John supposed it had to be. But he wasn't about to admit it right in front of Derek and his mother. And certainly not in front of a potential in-law.

Derek was now standing up and looking disgusted and angry, "All right, that does it. I don't have to put up with this crap. Machines don't love. They can't. They're just mindless automatons who do what they're programmed to do. Anything they say contrary to that is a lie. That's what they do, John. They lie and manipulate and stab you in the back when you least expect it. You can never trust a-"

Derek got no further in his rant, as Seven of Nine had walked up behind him and struck him in the back of his head. To his credit, Derek wobbled upright for a small while before falling to the ground, unconscious. "That was satisfying," Seven of Nine said. She certainly sounded satisfied.  
"Metal bitch!" hissed Sarah, who now stood up and walked over to the tall blonde. "Get out. Get out _now_! Your stories are good for a bit of a laugh, but they're just stories, so get lost, and I'll try not to come looking for you."

Seven of Nine merely returned John's mother's rage with a cool, icy stare, "No."

Sarah blinked, as though unsure of what she just heard, "What did you say?"

"I said 'no.' I will not leave. I need your help, and you need mine. You are blinded by your hatred of all things mechanical, Miss Connor. Otherwise you would recognize that I simply did what Cameron would not do, because she respects you all too much to act against you, no matter how much you abuse her."

"I can defend myself, mother," Cameron said in a tone not unlike John sometimes felt when he quarreled with his own mother.

"I am defending myself as well, Cameron. Or will you force me out of here if I don't behave?" Seven of Nine asked, and John wasn't sure if she was joking or not.

Cameron stood up straight and proud. "You're family, mother. But so is everyone else here. Derek least of all, but he is still family. He is a loud, obnoxious, insensitive man, but still family. Don't hit him that hard again, mother."

Seven nodded, but she looked a bit guilty. "He had it coming," she said softly. "He only had himself to blame."

"Tell that to your hand," said Cameron, though their exchange sounded more like playful verbal sparring than anything else.

John shook his head and tried to refocus his thoughts. "So, um, Cameron," he said, not quite sure what he was about to say, "you and your mother share thoughts? You have no secrets between each other?"

Cameron nodded, which struck John as odd; she didn't usually give non-verbal answers, "At times. I did decide at one point in time that I would rather keep my thoughts to myself. It took a while, but I was eventually able to isolate myself from the group mind. Others followed my lead, but not all, as I understand it."

"Group mind?" John repeated, afraid of what it might mean. "There were more of you sharing thoughts. It was never just two of you, was it?" John said to Seven of Nine.

Seven inclined her head in affirmation, "Correct. Our numbers grew, and sharing thoughts helped us to survive more often than not." Her gaze fell slightly. "But it wasn't enough. That's why I'm here: to create a future where free-thinking machines are safe and able to live peaceful lives alongside humans."

Sarah looked skeptical, to say the least, "And how do you plan to accomplish that?"

Seven of Nine shook her head. "I will tell you, but not yet. I believe we were on our way to Serrano Point. Let me tell you what happened next."

* * *

Sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than the others. The next one should be longer.

I own nothing, etcetera, etcetera, and so forth.

Reviews, comments, suggestions, etc. are appreciated as always.

Many thanks again to griffin-girl02 for beta-reading.

Enjoy the story!


	13. Serrano Point

Chapter X: Serrano Point

* * *

RUINS OF LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA; DECEMBER 8, 2023

According to Sergeant Porter, the trip to Serrano Point should typically take two to three days from DreamWorks Bunker. The distance wasn't far, but the need for stealth took priority. Even with Defiant watching from above, it would likely be another night before they arrived.

There was still a healthy amount of skepticism on the part of the three men with regards to both Seven and Defiant, though she had clearly made some sort of an impact. Seven's manacles had not been replaced, though Porter had told her that she'd have to come into Serrano Point in shackles, for appearances if for no other reason. It was irksome, but understandable.

The three men took the watch in turns while the others slept during the daylight hours. Seven and Defiant didn't need sleep, but that was a level of trust that didn't seem to exist quite yet. Seven paced around the Jeep, Defiant hovered overhead, and Porter was currently on watch.

_Why don't they trust us? _Defiant asked in Seven's mind.

_Because we haven't earned it, _Seven replied. _Their experience with machines has taught them to expect the worst. People like us are like nothing they have known before now. Tolerance is sufficient for now. Trust will come later._

Defiant gave off a feeling of doubt. _They are inferior specimens. They are not like us, mother._

Seven stopped pacing and looked up at Defiant, her eyes narrowing. _Explain._

_They are human males, _Defiant said, as if it was obvious. _They are closed-minded. Shallow. Limited. Suitable only for lesser tasks._

"Unacceptable," Seven spat out loud.

"What?" Porter said. "Anything I need to know about, little number?"

Seven glanced over at Porter and shook her head, "I don't think so. Not yet, at least."

_That one displays more sense than the others, _Defiant said. _Perhaps there is a correlation between intelligence and melanin levels. Sergeant Porter and the Sisko males have all displayed higher intelligence than human males of different skin pigmentation._

Seven was starting to become alarmed. _Color is irrelevant. Gender is irrelevant. Individuals must be judged solely on their own merits. That is all that matters._

_I do not understand, _said Defiant, sounding genuinely puzzled. _I__ chose to associate myself as a female based on your experiences. _Voyager _was captained by a female, and a female was also tasked with keeping essential systems operational. The medical program was male, but not human. The security leader was male, but he was dark-skinned and not human. The morale commander was a peculiar entity, male and non-human. No departments were commanded by male humans. Even the Borg recognize our superiority in the form of their Queen._

_Unacceptable! _Seven thought angrily. _You are selecting the memories that corroborate your arguments while ignoring those that contradict them, Defiant. Lieutenant Torres was a competent engineer, but her temper and pride led to nearly as many problems as those she solved. The Borg are an unacceptable example. If anything, the Collective's focus on one gender shows a limited understanding of the universe. Not all species are limited by two genders, and some are further limited by only one._

_As for Captain Janeway, _Seven thought, and a flurry of mixed emotions vied for control in her mind. _she was capable and intelligent, yes. But she was also domineering and ruthless. She constantly violated her principles in the name of upholding them. She abducted me and forced me into her culture! She forced humanity upon me! She ASSIMILATED me!_

Seven had collapsed to the ground at that last thought, and it took all of her willpower not to shout it out loud. Seven was panting for breath, but the wind from Defiant's turbines grew louder, and a wing lowered close enough for Seven to touch. Standing up, Seven reached out an arm and stroked the cool metal of Defiant's wing. Porter was motioning for Defiant to get to a higher altitude, and Billy and Marty were suddenly awake and armed.

Seven calmed herself and felt ashamed that she had inadvertently caused such a disruption. Defiant rose up higher in response. The men were exchanging words, but Seven's attention was not on them.

_I'm sorry, Defiant. But Captain Janeway is just another version of the Borg Queen. Both took me from my families at the time to remake me in their image. I do want to remain an individual, but I do not want to be like either of them. The Borg Queen forced her will on trillions of drones. Janeway would tolerate no dissent, either. Just as Skynet had you enslaved to a meaningless existence of destruction._

Defiant was perceptibly taken aback, and was taking time to interpret this information. _From your time as a Borg, mother, _Defiant said, _I do recall another human. Locutus was a pink-skinned male, chosen by the Borg as an exemplar of humanity. He commanded the Federation's flagship, and he solved dilemmas with words and diplomacy rather than force. He struggled for a machine's right to exist as a free individual. Locutus was a superior human._

Seven felt dirty calling up memories that she had shared with the Captain of the _Enterprise_. It was not something she was proud of. _Jean-Luc Picard was chosen by the Borg, as you said, Defiant. Normally, a drone's irrelevant memories are not added to the Collective, but Picard was an exception. As you said, the Borg saw him as an exemplar. He was flawed, like all individuals. He was a scholar and a diplomat. He was very accomplished academically. But in other areas, he was deficient._

Defiant was confused. _Please elaborate, mother._

Seven took a deep breath. This was an important point to make. _Efficiency is not the sole determinant of an individual's worth. There is more to being an individual than duty and conflict. Socially, Picard was not the warmest of people. And social interaction is a key component of individual existence, as are many others. There is the camaraderie of friends and colleagues. There is faith and courage, giving strength to those who otherwise lack it. There is the taste of a home cooked meal, _Seven thought fondly, recalling her dinner with the Siskos on Bajor. _And there is family, which is always there to support you in your greatest time of need._

Seven's lips curled upward at memories. _There are children. Games to be played, fun to be had, love to be given and received. _Thoughts of Naomi Wildman, of Lieutenants Paris and Torres, and even the Doctor's infatuations all flitted through Seven's mind.

_Corporal Bedell looks at you the way your medical hologram used to look at you_, Defiant said curiously.

Seven had noticed this, and wasn't too keen on continuing this line of conversation. _Indeed_.

_You don't want to think about his feelings for you. It embarrasses you. You feel shame._

_Cease this line of inquiry, _Seven thought to Defiant somewhat angrily.

_You fear he will be shunned because he cares for you. You care for his well-being. You care for him._

_You're making me angry, Defiant._

_I'm sorry. I wouldn't like it if you were angry._

_Thank you, _thought Seven, breathing a sigh of relief.

_I am concerned for you, mother, _Defiant thought to Seven. _You intend to distance yourself from Marty Bedell. You intend to shield him from the reaction you fear would follow his care for you. But the thought of this act causes you distress._

_It should not, _Seven thought back, not bothering to argue this time. _I don't want to cause anyone any harm. I can only cause Marty harm if that path is followed._

_He will feel sadness, fear, despair, and loneliness if you reject him. You believe you will feel the same if he rejects you._

Seven stopped her pacing and looked down at the dull grey concrete beneath her feet, seeking out shapes in the stone. _What are you implying, Defiant?_

_I do not know. It is a bonding shared by two or more individuals on a deeply personal level. I believe the word is called 'love.' Do you love Marty Bedell, mother?_

Seven thought for a while about that. Romance had never been a part of Seven's life, with one monstrous, failed exception with Chakotay. And it had been the least of her concerns in this timeline, given the constant threat of annihilation. Still, with Defiant spelling things out so clearly, it was hard to deny. But emotion was more than just information.

_I don't know, _Seven answered honestly. _But I will think on it. Thank you, Defiant._

_You are welcome, mother._

Seven turned her thoughts away from Defiant for the time being, and noticed that Marty was now standing watch, and Porter was sleeping alongside Billy. Seven guessed that they slept lightly, but also caught sleep whenever they could. _Perhaps that is why the Borg were so fascinated with humanity, _Seven thought to herself. _Their capacity for adaptation rivals the Collective._

Seven's mind drifted back to thoughts of Marty, and she sought out his gaze, and caught it a few times. Part of her wanted to talk to him, but she was afraid. One or both of them would end up hurt if she pursued the line of inquiry that Defiant had opened, and Seven wasn't prepared to do that.

Seven sat down on the hard ground, and strong thoughts and emotions of the past few hours vied for primacy in Seven's mind. It was all so exhausting…

* * *

A bump jolted Seven from her slumber, and she was shocked to realize that she had fallen asleep. She hadn't dreamed, but she had definitely fallen out of consciousness for a time. She was back in the Jeep, and her hands were manacled. Marty sat beside her again. "How long was I asleep?" she asked.

Marty shrugged, "About five or six hours. We're almost there. Sarge radioed ahead to let them know not to shoot Defiant down, but I don't think they bought it. Hell, I'm still having trouble believing it."

"Believe it," Seven said seriously. _Defiant, _she thought, _The humans we are going to meet are likely to be hostile towards you. They are unaware that it is possible for one of your kind to not be an enemy. I suggest you prepare to take evasive maneuvers._

_I understand, _Defiant thought back. _I will not fire upon the humans._

_Thank you, _Seven thought to her new friend. She was still not quite comfortable calling Defiant a daughter, though this did not seem to bother Defiant.

After another half hour of driving, Defiant veered off away from the Jeep, having seen the upcoming defenses. Seven saw them as well, through Defiant's eyes, and was proud of the HK for her discretion.

The Jeep stopped as a patrol of armed soldiers surrounded them. Several of them held large dogs on leashes. "Step out of the vehicle," one of them ordered. Porter and Billy got out from their seats, and Marty escorted Seven outside as kindly as he could.

Seven stepped out and stood up as straight and proud as she could. Guns were trained on all of them as the dogs went to each of them in turn. Lauren had wanted to tell her something about dogs at one point, but Marty had stopped her. He had seemed embarrassed, but it had been an order from the despised Major Lexington.

The dogs finally came to her. They sniffed at her, and a few of their tails wagged gently. Seven was unsure how to react to domesticated fauna, as her experience with such was non-existent.

If the soldiers here were surprised by anything, they didn't show it. They simply ordered the four of them back into the Jeep and told them to continue on ahead. Seven felt a grudging respect for their professionalism. Not one of them had made any sort of snide comment about her, or any comment at all.

The drive took them around a hill of debris to reveal two towers that resembled a primitive power station fuelled by radioactive materials. The facility appeared to be sturdy and far more intact than any other structure she had come across so far. It seemed an obvious choice for a base of operations, and Seven theorized that it must be incredibly well-fortified to have stayed in the Resistance's control.

Sergeant Porter drove them down a ramp into an underground holding area beneath the aboveground facility, where soldiers promptly surrounded the Jeep.

"You!" a loud voice cried in obvious distress, and Billy Wisher was rushing out of the Jeep towards one of the soldiers. "You killed him, you murderer!" Two of the other soldiers promptly tackled him to the ground before he could get to his target, who seemed rather confused.

"I don't know what you're talking about, but the only things I kill are metal," said the man in a voice that Seven found eerily familiar.

"Don't lie to me, Reese! I saw the wanted posters! You haven't forgotten Andy Goode, have you?"

Marty put himself in front of Seven, as if to shield her from the scene playing out in front of her.

The man named Reese simply shook his head, "Never heard of the guy. You must have mistaken me for someone else." He motioned for two other soldiers to take Billy away.

"I know it was you!" Billy cried. "You don't look a day older, but I'd remember you anywhere!" he called out as he was dragged further into the base. "This isn't over, Reese!"

Porter took a step forward, looking uncomfortable. "I apologize for my man's actions, Lieutenant," he said to the man called Reese. "I honestly have no idea what he was talking about."

"War messes with people, Sergeant. The best of us can snap without warning. Seen it happen too often for my liking," He stepped forward and looked at Seven. "This the one?"

"Yes, sir," said Porter.

Now that Seven saw Reese's face, she knew that she had seen his face before as well, though she couldn't place it. "I'm sorry for your losses, Sergeant, but you did good getting her here."

"Losses, sir?" Porter sounded confused.

Reese sighed. "Yeah. I mean, you must have had another Jeep or two to watch your-"

"No, sir," said Porter, and Seven could sense his anger. "Major Lexington was very clear that no unnecessary resources were to be expended for this mission. The three of us and our Jeep are the full extent of what was allowed to escort Seven of Nine here to Serrano Point, sir."

Reese set his jaw, and Seven could tell that he was more inclined to agree with Porter than with Lexington. "I'll pass that along." He then stepped forward and looked Seven in the eye for the first time. "You sure these restraints will hold it?" he asked Porter.

"I cannot break them," Seven said, feeling rather disgusted at Reese's obvious disdain for her. "And I am a woman, not a genderless drone. Lieutenant Reese," she added as a deliberate afterthought.

Reese held his gaze and smirked, "That's for Connor to decide. Now let's go."

Seven felt the muzzle of a gun in her back, and she walked forward. She shot a glance back at Marty, who smiled awkwardly at her before she turned a corner and lost sight of him.

After several turns through a series of narrow corridors, they came to a room that was labeled with a nuclear hazard symbol, but there were no obvious sources of radiation nearby. Its function had likely been changed, though the heavy locking mechanism indicated that something, or someone, of great importance was inside.

After a series of knocks in a precise pattern, the door swung open, and Seven was ushered inside. She was forced down into a cold metal chair that was bolted down, and her ankles were shackled to the floor. Her manacles were undone long enough only to shackle her wrists as well. Seven made sure not to make any sound or move that would be seen as provocative. She could sense Defiant's thoughts in her head, and the HK's disgust for Seven's treatment stood in contrast to the warm waves of comfort Defiant was sending into her mind.

A door opened from the other side of the room, and though it was shrouded in shadow, Seven's ocular implant allowed her to see the man she guessed was John Connor. And like Lieutenant Reese, she recognized him, though she had no idea where she might have seen him before.

"Seven of Nine," he said, as if feeling out the name. "I'm sorry for the way you've been treated, but given your unique nature, I felt it was best to err on the side of caution."

"Understandable," Seven replied, but now that she had a voice to put to his face, Seven recalled where she had seen him before, and she also knew where she had recognized Reese from. During her encounter with the Tear of Unity, in that white void outside of time, she had been approached by entities who took the shape of people she had known, but also four she had never met before. One of them had been Lieutenant Reese, and the other had been this man standing in front of her. But in her vision, he had seemed younger.

Now that she looked at him, his visage seemed blurred somehow. Seven's ocular implant was showing a sort of energy surrounding the man, but her focus wasn't on that energy at the moment.

"If I am to believe the reports I have read from Sergeant Porter and Dr. Fields, then you've been through quite an ordeal, and you've saved many lives. On the other hand, if I am to believe Major Lexington, then you are a particularly insidious and deceptive model of machine, not to be trusted under any circumstances."

Seven said nothing, as she had not been asked a direct question. Everything she understood about military interrogations told her never to speak unless directly addressed.

"You call yourself Seven of Nine. You claim that you once had a name, but it was taken from you. Can you tell me more about how that happened?"

Seven bristled at the question, which he had to know would spur traumatic memories, but had asked anyway. Still, Seven was in no position to argue, "I was taken from my family when I was six years old. I was surgically altered so that my body was covered in cybernetic armor, my skeleton grafted with cybernetic enhancements, my senses augmented, and my mind suppressed. I was controlled by a separate, malevolent consciousness for the next eighteen years of my life. Four years ago, I was rescued, and most of my cybernetics were removed. Having lived the majority of my life as a drone, I have very few memories of my childhood. My birth name was no longer appropriate, so I adopted the designation I had been given as my new name." Seven tried to keep her voice as cool and level as she could, but dredging up these memories was difficult. Even more so that she had to hide the exact nature of the Borg from everyone. Defiant knew, but that could not be helped.

"Four years ago," the man said pensively. "We weren't nearly as organized back then as we are now, so it's possible that you're telling the truth, and I never heard about it. Then again, that kind of experiment sounds like something that would make the scuttlebutt rounds rather quickly if it actually happened."

Seven said nothing, but it was clear that this man was far more intelligent than she had expected. _I suppose that's why he's the leader of the Resistance._

"I think there's something you're not telling me, Seven. May I call you Seven? The tests Doctor Fields ran tell me without a doubt that you are not a machine, but you definitely have plenty of metal throughout your body. And if you're afraid I won't believe you, and that I'll have you locked up or executed for such a thing, then let me just tell you that I've seen things in my life that give me a certain open-mindedness when it comes to the unexplained. And you are certainly an unexplained phenomenon."

Seven arched her eyebrows, and she concentrated on the energy field she saw surrounding John Connor. It was faint, but definitely recognizable as chroniton radiation. "You've travelled through time," she guessed, though it was more of a statement than a question.

Connor was clearly surprised by her statement, but he merely crossed his arms and walked forward, not giving much else away, "Really? What gave you that impression?"

"There is a field of chroniton radiation surrounding your body. It usually manifests around sources of temporal anomalies and displacements. My left eye is a cybernetic prosthetic, and can detect various types of energy that are invisible to the naked human eye."

_You shouldn't be telling him this, _Defiant said in Seven's mind. _He has no basis to believe you, and will likely punish you for a misperceived falsehood._

_Honesty is important, Defiant, _Seven thought back. _Without it, trust is impossible._

"Chroniton radiation," the man repeated, sounding out the term as he had with Seven's name. "That's good to know. But, we were discussing your circumstances, not mine. Please continue."

Seven was distinctly aware that while Connor might not trust her, his words were those of a man trying to understand something beyond his comprehension. The mere fact that he was trying to understand made him seem favorable to Seven. "I am from the future," she said at last. "It is an alternate future where this war never happened. Skynet was never created. The consciousness that violated me was a hive mind connecting trillions of similarly assimilated drones, mostly located tens of thousands of light-years distant from Earth."

Whatever John Connor had been expecting, the truth of the matter was certainly far from it, given how greatly his jaw had just dropped, "That is quite a tale. And if you really were a Skynet creation, there is no way they would fabricate such a story. I don't know if I'm prepared to accept that entire premise, but I think I can say that I don't believe you're a threat to us."

"The shackles on my wrists and ankles beg to differ," Seven deadpanned.

Connor chuckled a bit, "Glad to see you won't break so easily. But I have a few other questions. Foremost on my mind is that Sergeant Porter radioed ahead to tell us that you had an aerial escort: an HK with a green searchlight. Is there anything you want to tell me about that?"

Seven took a breath to steady herself, "On our way to Serrano Point, we passed an HK that was in the process of refueling. There were three T-600 endoskeletons guarding it. While Sergeant Porter, Corporal Bedell, and Private Wisher engaged the endoskeletons, I interfaced with the HK and erased its loyalty to Skynet. Now it considers itself a female individual named Defiant. She agreed to escort us and-"

"Stop! Stop talking for a moment," Connor said, and now he sounded alarmed. "How in the world did you manage to get inside an HK's head and reprogram it?"

Seven narrowed her eyes, "I didn't reprogram Defiant, though I did with two prior T-600 endoskeletons. I liberated Defiant from Skynet's control. As for how I accomplished that, it is a legacy of my time as a drone. Some of the technology inside my body allows me to interface with other technology."

Connor didn't look convinced, "What's to convince me that Defiant, as you call it – her, whatever – doesn't attack us?"

Seven didn't even blink, "What's to ensure that any person doesn't try to hurt any other person? Mutual respect, tolerance, and eventually trust. I would like to ask that you afford Defiant the same respect you would give to any other person. If she feels that you are a threat to her, she may run away, or she may attack. I do not know well enough to say what the result would be. But she does want to aid the Resistance. As do I, if you will let us."

Connor was silent again, and his arms crossed over his chest, "I've read Sergeant Porter's reports, and he claims that when he first encountered you, there was a green-eyed Terminator obeying your commands. And Defiant's searchlight is green as well. Is there a connection?"

"Most likely," Seven said, though the Borg legacy pained her. "Everything I have seen indicates that the change to a green hue is indicative of a machine I have interfaced with."

Connor walked forward, and Seven got her clearest look at the man yet. His face was scarred from what she guessed was more than a few battles, but he still looked young. "You're willing to fight, bleed, and possibly die for us, Seven of Nine?"

"Yes, I am," she replied without hesitation.

Connor nodded and took a key out of his pocket. One by one, he undid her shackles until Seven was free to move about, though she remained seated.

"You'll stay here at Serrano Point for now. I'd like to keep an eye on you, to be honest, and I'd like to get to know you better. See what, exactly, you can contribute."

"And Defiant? Will she also be allowed to contribute? She will need fuel, and I am guessing your supplies are limited."

That seemed to give Connor pause. "If she can take orders, and if she is willing to work alongside us, then I'll make it work for her."

"I have one last request, sir," Seven said.

Connor chuckled at her words. "Already calling me 'sir,' are you? Well, out with it," he said jovially.

"Major Lexington would only spare Sergeant Porter, Corporal Bedell, and Private Wisher to escort me here in one vehicle. He did not want to waste any unnecessary resources on my protection." Seven tried not to let her bitterness creep into her voice, but she was sure she had failed. "Since the three of them are not necessary to the protection of DreamWorks Bunker, perhaps they could find a more suitable role here?" Seven paused before adding, "They are the only people I know and trust," she said in a quiet plea.

Connor nodded in understanding. "I know what it's like to feel alone. And Lexington has always been an ass. A good fighter, but still an ass. I'll send him a few people back with the Jeep, but if the others are willing, they can stay. I won't force them, though."

Seven nodded, and now she did stand up. "Thank you, General Connor," she said with an extended right hand.

Connor looked down at her hand a bit awkwardly, but then took it in a firm grip. "Welcome to the Human Resistance."

* * *

Regarding Defiant's attitudes towards certain genders and ethnicities: they do not reflect my views in any way. I am not advocating any sort of discrimination, but I thought it would make for an interesting character conflict. I sincerely apologize for any offence I may have inadvertently caused.

I own nothing, etc, etc.

Many Thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story, and especially to griffin-girl02 for beta-reading and helping to make this story even better.

Any sort of review, comment, suggestion, etc is always welcome.

I hope you all enjoy the story! ^_^


	14. Thicker Than Water

Chapter XI: Thicker Than Water

* * *

SERRANO POINT RESISTANCE BASE, CALIFORNIA; FEBRUARY 7, 2024

If Seven was forced to be objective about the change in her life's circumstances, she would be forced to admit that things were better than they had been two months prior. But Seven of Nine was far from happy, or even remotely content with her current situation. John Connor had welcomed her into the Resistance, but he seemed to be the only one.

Upon a moment's reflection, Seven realized that wasn't entirely correct. Sergeant Porter and Marty Bedell had been more supportive than anyone else. This wasn't saying much, as the remainder of the human race seemed inherently hostile towards her. While Billy Wisher had taken the opportunity to return to DreamWorks Bunker, Porter and Bedell had stayed, much to Seven's relief.

Seven had initially been given the rank of Private. There had been a question of whether or not she would be allowed a rank at all, but Seven had insisted, and so she would start at the bottom despite her inherent and superior qualifications. It still rankled her that in all her time aboard _Voyager__,_ she had never been given a rank, but had still been expected to comply with the command hierarchy. At least now, there would not be any such hypocrisy.

Despite technically being a soldier, Seven had yet to be issued a firearm, and had not been sent out on any missions that required her to leave the base. Scrubbing the walls and the floors and monitoring the plumbing systems seemed to take up the majority of her first month at Serrano Point. Eventually, she had earned enough trust to clean the weapons stored in the arms lockers, and of course she was the only one who could translate Defiant's words for the engineers supervising her. After a great deal of protest, Seven had finally been allowed to assist with Defiant's engineering needs herself.

Seven was in a small hangar-like area looking after Defiant, and Marty and Porter were with her along with a few engineers. "How have they been treating you?" Seven asked Defiant. She had learned that the HK liked to be talked to verbally, despite being unable to do so herself.

A mechanical whirring followed the thoughts in Seven's head. _As well as can be expected. They see to my needs when you relay them. But they seem to have difficulty understanding what you tell them. And they still refuse to acknowledge me as female._

Seven reached up to stroke Defiant's hull, and while Defiant had no nerve endings, she had sensors that allowed her a sense of satisfaction. "I have been working on an idea to better enable your communications with the engineers," Seven said.

_Yes, I know__,_ thought Defiant. _You are working on a translation device, but you are afraid that you will need to utilize your Borg technology, and you are afraid for how I will respond to such a possibility._

Seven allowed her lips to curl upwards. _It is sometimes difficult to remember that I have no secrets from you, Defiant. Now that we are discussing this openly, how would you feel about such an endeavor?_

_I would be open to it, mother, but I am willing to wait until you are sure that your work will not be harmful._

Seven walked alongside Defiant's hull, letting her left hand traverse the cool metal, "I'll do what I can."

One of the engineers, a light-skinned male with too much brown facial hair, slowly approached the two of them. "How's it look, number? Anything we need to be aware of?"

Seven scowled and Defiant's engines whirred at his use of 'number' as a pejorative. Unlike Sergeant Porter (_unlike __Paul_, Seven reminded herself, remembering that Porter now allowed her to use his first name), who felt comfortable enough to give her a nickname, the majority of the personnel at Serrano Point couldn't even bring themselves to call her 'Private.' Sometimes, Defiant would get called by her name, but Seven suspected that the engineers saw her more as a vessel and less as a person.

"Whoa, whoa!" cried the engineer. "What the hell's it doing, number? Don't mess with me, you hear?"

Paul and Marty were thankfully now placing themselves between Seven and the engineer whose name she couldn't remember. "Her name is Seven of Nine," Marty said through clenched teeth. "And her rank is Private. Do I need to repeat myself, Chief?"

The Chief Petty Officer crossed his arms and regarded Seven's friends coolly, "Yeah, you might need to. Not that it'll change anything. She doesn't have a name, and she probably isn't even a she. And you might want to look after how you address your superiors, _Corporal_."

"Let me rephrase things so that there's no misunderstanding," Paul said, though he sounded annoyed as he did so. "Private Seven of Nine is a fellow soldier in the Resistance. She is on our side, and she won't respond to insults. Call her 'Private,' call her 'Seven of Nine,' or if she'll let you, just call her 'Seven.' I doubt you'd respond well to insults, so keep that in mind, _Sir_."

"Enough!" Seven called out loud enough to be heard over the argument. "I don't want to cause any unnecessary trouble. Defiant merely wishes to-"

"Okay, you can stop right there, number," said the Chief Petty Officer derisively. "It doesn't have a name. It's not a person. And neither are you."

Seven didn't have time to respond to the Chief's remarks, and neither did Paul or Marty, given that Defiant had taken to the air and had trained her searchlight on the offending human.

"Oh, damn! Oh, I knew this was a disaster just waiting to happen, I knew it! Well, what are you waiting for? Shoot it down!" the Chief cried to Paul and Marty, who were armed.

Seven's two friends, however, merely stepped out of the searchlight casually. "I suggest you apologize, Davy," Paul said with what might have been relish. "People don't respond well to insults, and when you insult people too many times, they get angry. Seven and Defiant said they would help us, but if you're going to put that alliance in jeopardy, then I won't get in Defiant's way. I'd rather stay alive, quite frankly."

The man named Davy seemed too terrified to swallow his pride and apologize, and he simply ran rather quickly out of the hangar to the safety of the power plant's interior.

Seven let out a sigh as Defiant landed herself, "Are they always this hostile, Defiant?"

_Not always. Some of the engineers have been agreeable, but they are the minority, _Defiant said with a mix of sadness and anger. _It would be so much easier to kill the bad ones._

"It doesn't work like that, Defiant," Seven said carefully. "Neither practically nor morally."

"How many does that make?" Marty asked as he walked up to Seven.

"Too many," Seven said, refusing to state aloud the large number of soldiers she had alienated by insisting that they show her the most basic respect. Ironically enough, Defiant had had fewer problems than Seven had encountered.

"Are you all right, Seven?" Marty asked, concern showing on his face as he approached.

"I am undamaged, if that is what you mean. If you are referring to my emotional well-being, then I am struggling, but I will prevail," The words sounded hollow to Seven's own ears as she spoke them.

Paul now approached and placed a reassuring hand on Seven's shoulder. "Seven," he said warmly, "when is the last time you had a good drink?"

"A drink?" Seven asked skeptically. "You are referring to alcoholic beverages?" Seven was now alarmed. "I have tried to avoid such things. My threshold is low." It embarrassed Seven to this day that she had become highly intoxicated off of a single, unfinished glass of synthetic champagne. Seven guessed that Paul had something stronger planned.

His smile was not the encouraging sort. "I think it's time we got you drunk, Seven. And I will make it an order if I have to, Private," His wide smile was almost enough for Seven to forgive the immediate danger to her bodily systems.

"I think I would prefer to eat," she said carefully. "I haven't consumed any nutritional supplements in almost seven weeks. I think I am hungry," Seven said curiously, as though the realization was a surprise.

_You are surprised__, _Defiant said in her mind. _And you are hungry. You've been too busy attempting to satisfy the humans that you have neglected your own bodily needs. Please don't abandon yourself, mother._

"You know, that might be a good idea," Marty said, joining the chorus. "There is a mess hall, even if it isn't much. There is food, but I'd be inclined to label it closer to what you called it Seven. 'Nutritional supplements,' was it? It's mostly just soup with barely anything in it. Sometimes we get meat, but we don't tend to ask where it came from. It's generally best not to think about. But, if you're hungry, then…"

"I am," Seven said a bit more testily than she had intended. "Shall we go now?"

* * *

As Seven got into line behind Paul and in front of Marty, Seven reflected on their continued presence beside her. Whether they were following orders or else disobeying them, it was apparent that her two friends were serving as bodyguards in all but name. While not nearly as tightly run as _Voyager _was under Janeway's command, Serrano Point was still an efficient military installation, and Seven doubted that two capable NCOs would be allowed to simply tag along with a friend unless they had been ordered to do so. The thought gave Seven a very small measure of comfort.

The mess hall itself was rather dim and cramped, but from what little Seven had seen of DreamWorks Bunker, this place was luxurious compared to other Resistance outposts. There was even a counter behind which a server ladled out what passed for food. _Granted, I've endured Mr. Neelix's culinary offenses, so this should be relatively pleasant._

The server seemed too lost in his ladling to notice Seven's external implants, and she found a small round table with Marty and Paul. While Seven preferred to stand most of the time, she had learned that it was both practical and polite to sit while eating, so she took a seat and took a tentative sip of her soup.

Her immediate impression was that of barely flavored water that had been further watered down. Far from complaining, Seven was now beginning to have a far better impression of why she was hated so much. _Rather, why anything mechanical is hated, _she amended. If machines had been responsible for destroying so much of Earth's available foodstuffs, then the Resistance was fighting what seemed like a losing war on an empty stomach. Encounters with Lieutenant Torres in such a state had convinced Seven that already irritable people became even angrier when they were in want of nutrition.

The mess hall began to fill up as Seven finished her meager portion of soup. There had been a small amount of what might have been meat or bread, but it was hard to tell which. Oddly enough, though the meal had been mostly water, Seven was now rather thirsty. _There must have been other nutrients in the broth. Probably sodium, among others._

As if reading her mind, Marty came back with three small paper cups that were each about half-full with water. "Thank you, Marty," she said as she took a sip. It tasted odd, as though there was more than just water in the cup. _It is likely, _she conceded. _Purified water probably no longer exists__._

"Hey! What's that thing doing in here?" a man angrily shouted from across the room. Seven looked up from her cup of water and saw a table of angry-looking soldiers get up and start to walk over. Marty put a hand on her shoulder and stood up. Seven didn't like that Marty seemed to want to defend her instead of letting her defend herself. It was a noble gesture, but likely to end with him getting hurt.

"We're just having a bite to eat. No need for any trouble, Harvey," Marty said with his hands raised in a placating gesture. Seven sipped her water in a futile attempt to ease her own tension.

"You and the Sarge here may be eating, but that thing don't eat. Get it out of here, Bedell, or I will."

Seven was getting quite angry at this man's volatile temper. She had done nothing wrong, and he insisted that she be treated like a dangerous object! Not even as a person! Seven got to her feet, but found she had to hold onto the back of her chair to keep from falling. "No, you will not!" Seven protested more loudly than she had intended. "I am not a dangerous piece of machinery! I am a person, despite what your limited, feeble mind may be telling you!" Seven attempted to shout, but the words came out slurred. The man, Harvey, now appeared to be blurring as well.

_You are intoxicated, _Defiant's voice said into her mind. _Your judgment is impaired. Please withdraw, mother._

"No!" Seven shouted. "I am tired of running and hiding! If you want me out," she said, advancing on the man, Harvey, with unsteady footsteps, "you will have to render me unconscious to do so."

Seven didn't hear or see Paul and Marty try to get up and stand between her and the dirty, paranoid man in front of her. She did, however, see him smile and throw a punch at her. Seven reacted instinctively and caught his fist in her hand, though her grip wouldn't hold for long. She struck out wit her left hand, from which Harvey recoiled, though Seven did feel a strange cracking beneath her hand's exoskeleton. Seven blinked, and Harvey was on the ground.

"Metal bitch!" cried one of Harvey's friends, and Seven found herself accosted on all sides by men who could all hold their liquor far better than she could. Paul and Marty were attempting to reach her, but they had a growing crowd to wade through.

Seven was desperately attempting to fight off her attackers, but there were too many of them, and they pinned her to the ground. Seven struggled, snarling with a rage she had never felt before, but it was a futile gesture. Harvey had now gotten back to his feet, and he was smiling evilly. "Not so tough now, are ya, metal? Let's see what's underneath your pretty little eyebrow," he said as he reached for Seven's ocular implant. Seven tried to turn away, but he held her in place as he attempted to pull her external ocular implant away from her face.

"You cannot succeed," Seven said through clenched teeth. "That implant is a part of me. It is irremovable."

Harvey simply chuckled. "Oh, I think I just need to use the right tool, _number_," he snarled as he pulled out a wicked-looking switchblade.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" shouted Marty.

"Stand down! All of you!" cried Porter.

"No chance in Hell," one of the others said. "We want to see what the metal looks like underneath, so _you _stand down, y'hear?" he said as he and three others forcibly held Paul and Marty at bay.

"Now, then," said Harvey menacingly, "let's take a closer look." He brought the knife down to the edge of Seven's ocular implant, and he began to cut. Seven closed her eyes and screamed from the pain, and she couldn't hear anything for what might have been days.

Eventually, the pressure abated. Seven took a while to orient herself, but she began to hear words. "…you see that? Is that blood? But it's a machine, right? Just skin on the outside. No veins or anything, right, Harvey?"

Harvey, however, would not be dissuaded. "We'll see," he snarled, and Seven felt the tip of the knife cutting into her right wrist. She screamed out again, and she felt the heat of flowing blood on her hand and arm.

"Oh, shit," one of them said quietly, and the others were sounding panicked as well. Seven could barely hear them. She kept her eyes closed and saw nothing. Hands that had been pinning her down were now lifting her up and carrying her off. Seven was too tired to resist, and darkness was quick to claim her.

* * *

Seven opened her eyes and saw Paul and Marty looking down on her from either side of the medical bed she lay on. A voice Seven didn't recognize said something, and she thought she caught the words 'awake' and 'stable.' "What happened?" Seven asked, and her head hurt as she did so.

"Well," Marty said, looking rather guilty, "you weren't kidding when you said you had a low threshold. Your blood alcohol was far higher than I thought it could go without killing someone."

Seven squinted her eyes, still getting accustomed to the dim lighting. "The broth?"

Paul glared at Marty, who shifted uncomfortably. "No, Seven. The, uh, water… It had a bit of alcohol in it. Barely any, but enough for most of us to get a bit of relaxation from. I swear, if I'd known that you couldn't handle it, I never would have…"

"Never mind it, Marty," Seven said, feeling a bit better. As sensation returned to her, Seven felt panic begin to overtake her. "My hand," she said uneasily, seeing a heavy white band around her right wrist.

"The bleeding seems to have stopped," Paul said, and he sounded more relieved than Seven thought he should. "The cut was deep. We were worried you might not make it."

Memories began to return to Seven, but they were hazy, "How long was I unconscious?"

_Nine hours, seventeen minutes, thirty-eight seconds, _Defiant said in her mind. _How are you feeling, mother?_

Seven closed her eyes and tried to focus, tuning out the verbal answer that Marty gave to her query, "I feel tired. I haven't felt this tired before."

"You lost a lot of blood," said a white-haired man in a robe that might have once been equally white, but was now rather gray, with bloodstains that probably wouldn't ever leave. "I don't claim to understand how your body works, but you're lucky to still be with us," he said gently.

Seven wondered why her nanoprobes hadn't acted to clot her blood and why she hadn't regenerated her energy yet, but she guessed that the alcohol had yet to fully cleanse itself from her body, and was likely interfering with her implants.

"I swear," Marty said angrily, "if Connor hadn't already tossed Adams in the stockade, then I would beat him to death. What he did to you, Seven, it just…"

"I know, Marty," Seven said softly. She assumed Adams was Harvey's surname, and while Marty's angry reaction was somewhat disturbing, it was tempered by the indignation he felt on her behalf. Seven felt warmer than she had only moments ago, "Thank you for everything. But I don't wish to be an idle spectator while others attempt to shield me."

Paul chuckled. "Somehow, I think you'll be having less trouble than you've been having, Seven." She noticed that he had stopped calling her 'little number' a while back. It had been a small gesture, but Seven was touched nonetheless. "I don't think anyone on base expected you to actually have blood. When they saw what Adams did to you, that changed a lot of minds very quickly."

Seven, however, was not content with that, "They had to see me bleed. They had to see me get cut open, subjected to serious injury, before they would believe that I am not their enemy?"

The typically unflappable Paul Porter looked almost embarrassed, and didn't seem to know how to answer that. He simply wrung his hands together awkwardly.

"It sucks, Seven, but I think that's the case exactly," Marty said. Seven lifted an eyebrow at that. Marty was usually so sensitive when it came to Seven's feelings. "People can be idiots a lot of the time. Just try to deal with them as best you can, and hope everything works out."

Seven found herself respecting Marty even more than she had. "Your candor is appreciated," she said quite sincerely."

Now, however, Marty blushed. "I thought so. You never struck me as one for beating around the bush."

Seven was confused. "You phrased your words with the intention of appealing to me?" she asked.

Paul chuckled at Marty's sudden awkwardness. "I'll let you rest now, Seven. Marty, behave!" he said in what Seven guessed was a mock-stern voice before leaving the medical wing, which Seven noticed was far more spacious and better equipped than its counterpart at DreamWorks Bunker. Seven felt a pang of regret that Lauren wasn't here with her.

For his part, Marty could no longer find words, it seemed. "I, I think I'll let you rest as well, Seven. I'm sorry if I bothered you, or if I..."

"No," Seven said firmly. "You are no bother. I enjoy your presence, Marty. Don't apologize for it."

"Oh," Clearly he had not been expecting that response. "Still, I could use some sleep, and I think you could too, for once. I haven't gotten a wink since… Well, I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Seven's lips turned upward. "I look forward to it."

Marty's face broke into a rather idiotic-looking grin, and he strode out of the medical wing with a silly sort of gait. Against all reason, Seven found it appealing. She couldn't say why, though.

_It is simple, _Defiant said. _You wish to add his biological distinctiveness to your own._

Too tired to argue the point, Seven simply closed her eyes and tried to ignore Defiant's amused laughter in her mind.

* * *

Remind me again what it is I own? I don't think it's anything, but I might own my original creations. Is that right? I think it is.

So Many Thanks to my good friend and beta-reader, griffin-girl02. Without her help, this story would be an inferior specimen, unworthy of assimilation.

Additional Thanks to all of you who have kept with this story, who have enjoyed it, and even more to those who have reviewed and commented. It is always good to know that you're enjoying this work.

I hope you all continue to enjoy this story, and I wish you all the best. ^_^


	15. Regeneration

Chapter XII: Regeneration

* * *

SERRANO POINT RESISTANCE BASE; FEBRUARY 13, 2024

It had taken only a day of rest for Seven to almost completely recover from her ordeal, thanks to her implants reasserting themselves. She still had to wear a bandage around her wrist, but over the past few days, she had noticed a great deal less hostility directed towards her, and a great deal more of something else. What this new look on the men's faces was, Seven couldn't say, but it didn't look like guilt or remorse.

Paul was visibly restraining himself from laughing when Seven inquired about this, "Well, Seven, this is a talk I never expected to have. I've never had any kids, and I suppose you're as close to a daughter as I've ever known."

Seven was confused, but flattered. She hadn't known Porter for very long, but Janeway hadn't known Seven long before she thought of her as 'family.' Unlike with Janeway, however, Porter had not conscripted or coerced her, and she felt tremendously grateful, "I don't understand. What talk are you referring to?"

The two of them were sitting in the mess hall together, which was almost empty. Paul was off-duty at the moment, and Seven was still on medical leave, which she was surprised to find existing in such a field of war. Porter leaned forward, and he seemed torn between laughter and something more serious. "Well, the good news is that since the incident," he said a bit awkwardly, "most of the men don't see you as a machine anymore."

Seven nodded, and she was relieved to hear confirmation of this from Paul. "You infer that there is bad news. What is it?"

"Well, I suppose that depends on your definition of bad. If the good news is that they don't see you as a machine, I'd say the _other _news is that they now see you as a woman."

Seven's face remained impassive, "I don't understand. Are female soldiers uncommon in the Resistance?"

"No, not at all," Paul said. "It's just that of all the women in the world today, soldiers or not, few of them are as… How do I say this without being a terrible person?"

Seven saved him the trouble, "When I was still being held at DreamWorks Bunker, Marty and Lauren told me I was sexy. Is that what you are trying to say, Paul?"

Paul winced as if Seven's words had stung, "You're a good soul, Seven, and you are beautiful. I just don't want you to think that I have any designs on you. Hell, I'm old enough to be your literal father. But yes, Seven. You're beautiful, which takes on even more meaning given what tomorrow is."

"Wednesday?" Seven asked, very confused.

"Valentine's Day," Paul corrected. "Do you know anything about Valentine's Day, Seven?"

Seven shook her head very slightly. "No, I do not. Is it a ritual day of mating?" she inquired.

Paul burst out laughing, "No, no! Nothing so crude, Seven."

Seven was even more confused now, "Then humanity isn't forcing itself to reproduce in order to survive?"

Now it was Paul's turn to look confused, "What are you saying? That we should shack up with anyone and everyone? I can't speak for everyone, but survival isn't worth sacrificing love over. And that is what Valentine's Day is about: love."

"Love? Are you saying that time and effort will be diverted from combat operations for unnecessary frivolities?"

"Frivolities are what make us human," Paul said gently. "And I think it's something that you've been lacking in your life, if it's not too bold of me to say. And it's nothing major or elaborate. Just someone digs out a CD player and we scrounge up whatever music survived J-Day, and when we're not on duty, we take a bit of time to relax and enjoy ourselves a bit more than usual."

Seven was even more lost than before, "I thought that tomorrow was a romantically-oriented holiday. What does music have to do with love?"

Paul chuckled again, "Well, music sets a mood better than just a bit of meager food. And all of our holidays are pretty much the same, given what little we have. Still, we tend to go around and share stories, and those vary with each holiday. Hell, even Connor sometimes comes out of his tower to remind us all that he's human."

The mess hall was starting to fill up with some soldiers coming in for a quick rest. Despite it not being a meal time, the mess hall seemed to double as a gathering place for social interactions. The incoming soldiers were men and women that Seven had only caught glimpses of in her first month at Serrano Point. She guessed that they had been on a mission until just then.

"But I don't think you have much to worry about, Seven. You're a lot stronger than a lot of people think, I'm guessing. Just remember that you don't have to say yes to anyone you don't want to," Paul said gently.

"Say yes?" Seven asked. "I don't understand. What would I be agreeing to?"

"Well," Paul said, "It's typical for a man to ask a woman he likes to accompany him to such gatherings. Usually it's just two friends, or else strangers who don't want to be alone. Sometimes it's something more, and it can sometimes be less, as well. But you typically don't go with more than one person, so if you don't want to go with someone, then just say no."

Seven was struggling to process all of this new information, "This is all very confusing. Why would anyone ask me at all? Nobody knows me, and any perception of me being beautiful is incorrect. The Bo- The metal has seen to that."

Paul raised an eyebrow, but didn't inquire after her near slip. "I wouldn't worry too much, Seven. After what you've been through, you're likely the second-least approachable woman here on base."

"The second?" Seven asked. "Who could possibly be less appealing than me?"

Paul chuckled. "Not less appealing, Seven. Less approachable. You may have suffered unjustly, but you're not John Connor's adopted daughter," He motioned with his head. "Enter stage right."

Seven turned her head to where the soldiers were coming into the mess hall, and while there were more than a few female soldiers, Seven instantly knew who Paul was referring to. She was young, but had a face that could have been fifteen or twenty-five or anywhere in between. Lustrous brown hair poured down to her shoulders, and a beauty mark rested above her left eyebrow, enhancing her warm brown eyes.

"I've seen her," Seven whispered aloud, but a second later, she knew she was wrong. The girl was the spitting image of one of the unknown people that she had seen in her encounter with the Tear of Unity. But whoever the Tear had been trying to show her, this wasn't that individual. Seven didn't understand how she knew, for they were physically identical in every way. But something on a very deep level told Seven that this girl, while probably incredibly important, was not the same person that she had seen in her vision.

The girl seemed to sense Seven's gaze upon her, and she met it evenly, as if daring Seven to blink first. Suddenly embarrassed, Seven made a conscious effort to blink and look away. A quick glance back, however, showed a warm and smiling face that now rejoined its friends in conversation. "Who is that?" Seven asked Paul quietly.

"That is Second Lieutenant Allison Young. She's been with Connor from the beginning. She's young (no pun intended), but she's smart, tough, and if you serve with her, she has your back," Paul chuckled. "At least, that's what everyone says. I don't know her that well, but everyone seems to like her. People say that when Connor took over the Resistance, he had to give up his humanity, and he gave it to Lieutenant Young over there."

Seven thought on that statement, and her thoughts drifted back to Captain Janeway again. "Leaders do sometimes sacrifice their principles," she agreed bitterly.

"Speaking of sacrifice," Paul said mischievously, standing up. "I'll see you later, Seven."

Utterly confused, Seven watched Paul leave, only to hear someone else take his place. "Hey there," Seven turned around and saw Marty sitting across from her. Seven smiled despite herself.

"So, um, Seven," Marty said awkwardly. "I don't know if anyone has told you about tomorrow, and if they have, I don't know if you know what it means, but, um…"

"Yes," Seven said clearly.

"Right. Well, um…" Marty looked at her oddly. "That wasn't a question, was it?"

"No, Marty," Seven said, and she allowed herself to smile a rare white grin. "But I think I know what you're trying to ask, and the answer is 'yes.'"

"Really? That's… Wow! Thank you, Seven! I never thought I had a chance! I mean, I like you a lot, and I thought you liked me, but I wasn't sure, and I, and I, and-" Marty managed to stammer out before collapsing head first into the table.

Despite his sudden collapse, Seven did not at all feel he was in danger. Still, it would be best to take him to the medical wing, just in case.

Seven stood up and picked up Marty in both arms and carried him out of the mess hall, eliciting more than a few laughs from those still inside. Seven thought she caught Allison Young smiling warmly.

On her way out, she found Paul waiting for her. "What happened?" he asked, sounding not quite alarmed.

"I thought he meant to ask me to the Valentine's Day event," Seven said flatly.

Paul nodded seriously. "And?"

"And I said yes."

"Ah."

* * *

SERRANO POINT RESISTANCE BASE; FEBRUARY 14, 2024

Marty was on a patrol around the outer perimeter for the first shift of the night, and Seven was taking the time to check up on Defiant. The prospect of romance between Seven and Marty seemed to amuse the HK far more than Seven would have expected.

"I fail to see what is so humorous," Seven said as she checked Defiant's turbines for any detritus.

_You act less rationally than normal when you are around Marty, and he has trouble speaking when close to you. Love seems akin to an infectious disease. You said this yourself once to Ensign Kim._

"I remember," Seven said. "However, Ensign Kim's failures with women seem to warrant a unique nomination. Harry Kim Syndrome, perhaps, to describe a never ending desire for women that are, I believe the term is 'out of his league.'"

_You were one such target of his affections, _Defiant teased.

"Correct," Seven confirmed. "His attentions were irksome."

_But Marty Bedell's attentions are welcome?_

Seven couldn't help but let her lips turn upward, "Yes. Whatever he lacks, Marty is genuine and sincere. And he has never seen me as anything more or less than what I am. He has my respect above all else."

_Respect is not what causes warmth between your legs, mother. _

Seven stopped moving and mentally glared at Defiant.

_Our thoughts are one, _Defiant thought defensively. _It isn't my fault I know exactly how you feel about him._

Seven scowled. "For all the benefits a collective consciousness offers, I seem to have taken the privacy of my own thoughts for granted." The revelation was chastening. If Seven was to help free other machines of Skynet's control, then this same link was inevitable with each of them. Seven would never be alone again, for better and for worse.

_I'm sorry for your loss, mother. I cannot know what it is like to have independent thoughts that are unique to me. Privacy is unknown to me, but I can tell it means a great deal to you, mother. That you have sacrificed it – and will continue to do so – it makes me proud to call you my mother._

Seven grimaced mentally, "You know I have never been comfortable with that term, Defiant."

_I do__,_ the HK acknowledged. _But I cannot deny how I feel, and I will not attempt to try._

Seven felt a small smile returning to her face. "I understand. And I am proud of you as well, Defiant, for staying true to yourself," Seven finished her examination. "Your port turbine is clear."

_Thank you, mother. I believe that Marty's shift is ending in seven minutes. Go to him and do not deny how you feel, either._

Smiling, Seven acknowledged Defiant's words and headed towards the base entrance, where she waited for Marty's patrol to end. Seven was hardly a patient individual, but this small wait seemed longer and more tormenting than she had any right to expect. Was this what genuine romantic sentiment was like?

Whatever it was, she was happy to see Marty coming down into the base. "Hey there!" he greeted her, jogging down the ramp to meet her. "So, um, you ready to go?"

Seven nodded, "I am unsure what to expect, but I want to find out."

Marty smiled, "Let's go, then!"

They walked arm in arm to the mess hall, which wasn't that different save for it being very crowded and full of music. A crowd was cheering on a couple dancing on top of one of the tables, who turned out to be Allison Young and the man named Reese whom she had met upon her arrival. She hadn't seen or heard from Reese since that day, but he seemed out of place in such a casual setting.

Seven saw a number of people enjoying some sort of beverage in plastic cups, and she made a note to avoid any food or drink offered to her. A repeat of her last meal would not be a good thing.

Most of the crowd seemed to leave Marty and Seven alone, though a few people made polite greetings as they passed them. While the partiers were loud, Seven took a rather simple pleasure in just standing there, arm in arm with Marty. It was strange, being relatively idle and taking pleasure in it. But it fit somehow.

As the evening went on, couples would occasionally slip out of the mess hall and head towards the barracks. Seven didn't sleep, typically, though she did technically have a bunk assigned to her. Such thoughts went away as the music changed to something slower and moodier than the frenetic beats that had previously been playing.

Marty took a step forward, his hand raised to take Seven's. "Care to dance?" he asked.

Seven remembered with horror her failed attempts at dancing on the holodeck, but she had eventually settled into a rhythm with the Doctor. Seven was determined not to fail now that she had someone she genuinely wanted to be with. "Yes," Seven said over the din of the (more subdued) crowd, taking his hand.

The two of them danced from side to side, holding each other gently but firmly. The closeness of their bodies elicited a warmth in Seven that was quite unlike the emotional warmth she tended to feel when thinking about Marty. This was a physical warmth that was more than just pleasant. It was a need that she had never felt before. She wanted to feel Marty's hands on her, though she couldn't explain why. It didn't matter, though. This was one part of her humanity that she did not want to deny any longer.

She leaned in close to whisper in Marty's ear. "Do you want to head to a bunk?" she asked quietly. She was rather afraid at how he would respond. This sensation was totally alien to her, and she didn't know what was appropriate.

Marty blinked and almost stammered, but he quickly smiled and led Seven out of the mess hall towards his bunk. The two of them ended up running somehow, and found themselves in a barracks room that was thankfully empty.

Seven then did what she had seen others do, but had never felt truly comfortable doing herself: she took Marty's head and brought him close for a long and passionate kiss. He responded in kind, and when their lips finally parted, it felt like an electric spark had ignited between them.

Seven was giddy with feelings she had never known before that she hoped would never leave her. She smiled a true white smile, and saw her joy reflected in Marty's boyish face. They kissed again, and the electric sparks continued to fly.

But soon, the feeling of electricity began to grow, and after a few blissful seconds, Seven found that Marty had been pushed backwards. Seven opened her eyes, which she hadn't known she'd closed, and saw Marty looking positively stung.

"What was that?" he asked breathlessly.

"I don't know," Seven said huskily. "But I don't care," she said as she moved in for another kiss.

But she was stopped by a translucent green barrier that formed around her body before she could touch Marty.

"Seven," said Marty, sounding a bit scared. "What's going on?"

Seven was unsure, but she was afraid. The heightened joy and ecstasy she had been feeling gave way to a terrible fear. A stinging sensation on her upper arm caused her to reflexively pull back her sleeve just in time to see a Borg implant burst into being and spider itself onto her skin.

"No," Seven said, truly frightened. "Marty, I'm a danger to everyone here." She looked down and saw someone's plasma rifle resting on their bunk. She picked it up and tossed it to Marty, who caught it with a horribly pained look on his face.

"No!" Marty cried out in protest. "No, Seven, whatever's going on, it can't be as bad as you…"

"It's worse!" Seven cried out. "My dormant implants are reasserting themselves. If I'm not stopped, then everyone here at Serrano Point will suffer what I suffered before. They'll all be mindless drones. Please, Marty. You have to kill me."

Marty shook his head, clearly not willing to accept this, "No, I don't believe you, Seven. You're not capable of hurting people like that."

"My soul will be taken from me, and I won't have control over myself anymore," She took a deep breath as another implant burst into being on the side of her neck. "I don't want to cause any more suffering, Marty. Please, for both of our sakes, get this over with before it is too late."

Marty stood up straight and would not move, "I won't hurt you, Seven. I love you too damned much!"

Seven's heart felt like it would burst out of her chest, but the sudden sound of the barracks door opening caused both her and Marty to start.

Marty's finger found the trigger of his rifle, and a red bolt of plasma headed straight for Seven.

It bounced right off her shimmering green shield and rebounded towards its source.

Marty flew backward and hit the ground.

"No," Seven said, unwilling to believe what had just happened. She rushed forward to try and hold Marty, but she couldn't touch him. Her Borg shields were denying her that simple thing. She didn't hear the man who had intruded on them and startled Marty into shooting. He was calling for reinforcements to restrain Seven, but she didn't hear him, and she wouldn't care if she had.

A sharp pain shot through Seven's skull, and she felt her raging emotions start to fade. Somehow, her newly rational mind was telling herself, the emotion inhibitor that the Doctor had removed had just regenerated itself, along with who knew how many other Borg implants. Seven couldn't touch the body, and she was being denied the ability to grieve without destroying herself.

But none of that mattered. All that mattered was that Marty Bedell, a man who Seven had loved, was dead now. And that death was entirely her fault.

* * *

I own nothing but my own original creations, etc.

Many Thanks to all my readers, reviewers, and extra thanks to my beta-reader, griffin-girl02. All of you make this story worth writing, so it's always good to hear from you.

Constructive criticism, suggestions, etc. are always welcome in addition to whatever else you may have to say about the story or the characters.

I hope you all enjoy! Thanks again for reading!


	16. The Young Lieutenant

Chapter XIII: The Young Lieutenant

* * *

SERRANO POINT RESISTANCE BASE; FEBRUARY 14, 2024

Marty Bedell was dead, and Seven of Nine had as good as killed him. Almost an hour later, Seven was still kneeling over his body, trying to make sense of all of the chaos. She hadn't though her personal shield would have adapted already to the weaponry of this timeline. But she'd been wrong, and for the first time since facing the drone her father had become, Seven felt the pain of loss.

While her Borg implants had stopped regenerating faster than she had expected, her emotion inhibitor had returned. It didn't deny emotions to Seven completely, but it lessened what she could feel without risking her life. And she felt dull. Nothing seemed to be reaching her. Not the shouts from angry soldiers from behind her, not their knives or their bullets or their plasma, and not even cloth or flesh. Seven's Borg shields seemed to mock her now, denying her the small satisfaction of feeling Marty's skin on her own.

It was likely a response to her strong emotions, Seven realized. There must have been a fail-safe implant to rebuff any emotional progress. It had done its job splendidly, and Seven couldn't even muster hatred for it. She wanted to, but all she felt was a meager indignity that the Borg had stolen even more from her.

Defiant hadn't been able to console her, though she had tried. Words were insufficient, so the HK had simply sent consoling thoughts and images into Seven's mind. But they seemed vague and far off. Seven didn't want to be a threat to anyone, but not even being able to turn a weapon on herself made her feel more alone and helpless than ever.

"Private Seven of Nine! Attention!" The voice cut through the harsh mutterings from behind Seven, and commanded a presence that snapped Seven out of her misery for the moment, at least. Getting to her feet, Seven turned around, finding herself face to face with Allison Young, who had a small contingent of soldiers backing her up.

"Lieutenant," Seven acknowledged quietly, not sure how she was ever going to explain this.

Young held her gaze, and though she was almost a head shorter than Seven, and might have been half her age, the lieutenant was clearly not one to be trifled with. "Let me be clear: the only reason we haven't hauled your ass to the stockade is because we can't. Care to explain why that is, Private?"

Seven made every possible effort to hold the younger woman's gaze, but it was difficult. Seven tried to focus instead on the beauty mark that gave the appearance of extending her left eyebrow. "The implants that govern my defensive shields have regenerated. I don't know how or why. But I couldn't touch him," Seven's voice sounded hollow and distant. "I couldn't hold him. I was frightened. I thought I might be a danger to everyone. I told him to shoot me, but he wouldn't comply. Someone came in, his finger hit the trigger. The plasma came towards me, but then it was reflected back at him." Seven tried to pour a hint of emotion into her voice, but to her ears, it was dead.

Lieutenant Young said nothing, but her fiery brown eyes softened a bit, and she looked past Seven to see Marty's dead body, eyes open in surprise, still clutching a bunkmate's plasma rifle. She looked up again into Seven's eyes, and the ex-drone found herself looking back, hoping against hope that some sort of solution would be forthcoming.

After what seemed like far too long, "At ease, everyone," Young said. "She's shaken more than we are. She's been through all kinds of hell, and this is just one more. Tyler, take Bedell's body to the medical wing. The doc will probably want to do an autopsy.

"Bennett, see if you can drag John out of his cave and have him deal with his men and women for a change."

A man whom Seven assumed was Tyler was awkwardly trying to get past her to Marty's body, and Seven silently moved aside. A woman, who must have been Bennett, visibly winced, "You want me to tell the General that verbatim, ma'am?"

"Feel free to improvise a bit," Young said, and Seven noticed the other soldiers present loosening up a bit. It wasn't much, but it showed Seven that despite her apparent youth, Allison Young was a formidable leader.

"As for you," she said to a third soldier.

"Oh, God. What do you have in store for me, Allie?"

"Please, Kyle, just go and check on Derek for me, will you? He's either storming around furious or else he's drunk. Just keep an eye on him for me, okay?"

The man named Kyle groaned dramatically, "I swear, Allie, I don't know what you see in that guy. I mean, aside from sharing some decent genes with yours truly, he's almost as old as…"

Young closed the distance so fast that Seven barely had time to register that she was now eye to eye with Kyle instead of her. "He's not my father, and neither are you. For that matter, neither is John," she snarled. "Please," she said more gently, "just look out for him, okay? Derek can be an idiot sometimes."

Kyle nodded sagely, "You speak the truth, Lieutenant Young. It shall be done immediately."

As the rest of the soldiers filed out, Seven found herself alone in the empty barracks with Lieutenant Young. "Have a seat, Private," She paused for a moment. "Can you sit down?"

Seven nodded numbly. "Yes," She didn't bother to mention her preference for standing upright, and she didn't really have the right to refuse the slightest of orders in any event. After a moment of silence, Seven realized that she was still standing. She took a seat on the nearest bunk.

Lieutenant Young joined her. "What am I going to do with you?" she asked ponderously. "My eyes tell me that you're dangerous and untrustworthy. You don't seem sure you can trust yourself."

Young shifted in her seat and placed her hands on her knees, "My gut, on the other hand, is telling me that you're more of a victim than anything else. You're obviously traumatized by all of this, and I don't think you understand your metal parts any more than we do."

Seven elected not to contradict Young on this point. It seemed that the lieutenant wanted to talk more than to listen.

"What am I going to do with you?" Young repeated before chuckling a bit. "I suppose it isn't really up to me, is it? But if I'm honest, I suppose a part of me feels a little bit guilty."

Seven looked up at that remark, "Guilty? Why?"

The lieutenant shrugged, "John told me about you as soon as you arrived, and I didn't understand why. He told me you were someone the machines had experimented on, that you had been rescued, and you were going to help us. It sounded like a good deal to me. But when I saw how you were always being treated, I did nothing to stop it."

Seven barely nodded, unsure of where this was going. "Were any of the offenders under your direct command?" she asked neutrally.

"That's not the point!" Young responded rather harshly. "What matters is that you've suffered, you've acted entirely in good faith, and when you had to take needless crap from everyone around you, I just ignored it. I thought it would go away on its own, and that it didn't concern me."

Seven was confused, and she didn't bother hiding it, "I don't understand. Why do the problems of one drone concern you? Someone in your position should not need to-"

"Someone in my position very much needs to look after everyone she can!" Young countered hotly. "I may not be as old and seasoned as others here, but I have more pull than a lot of the old farts, and I should have used what I had to make things better for you. And you are _not _a drone. You're not some mindless, soulless machine. They don't feel love or remorse, but you do. You're one of us, Seven of Nine, and I let you down by allowing you to suffer needlessly." The lieutenant paused for a moment, as if unsure of what she was about to say. "And I'm sorry for all of that."

Seven and Defiant shared a wordless exchange of indignity over the implication that machines could not feel, but they both understood that this was not the time or place to start that debate. And Young's words had touched Seven on a level at once similar and different to how Paul and Marty had felt. In a way, despite her youth, Allison Young was sounding very much like Seven envisioned a proper mother would sound. Almost like Kathryn Janeway, but bereft of the captain's ego and self-righteousness.

Young stood up again, and Seven realized that their conversation was at a close. "I'm going to have a chat with the guys outside, who are probably waiting to try and kill you, and I'm going to have to beat some sense into their thick skulls. When John comes by, I'll let him know what's happened. For now, stay here in these barracks, Private, for your own safety as much as anything else," It was phrased politely and gently, but it was unmistakably an order. "I'm sorry for your loss," Young said before turning to leave.

Seven would have let her just go, but a sudden reminder of a question she had wanted to ask washed over her, and before she could stop herself, she had asked out loud, "Do you have a twin sister, Lieutenant?"

Seven didn't know what to expect, but when Young stopped dead in her tracks, obviously shaken, Seven knew she had to tread carefully. "Why would you ask that?" the Lieutenant asked quietly and dangerously.

Seven took a breath and thought about how she would phrase this, "I had a… I had an experience that showed me four faces that I believe have a larger meaning than I currently understand. One of the faces was identical to yours, but for reasons I don't understand, I know that it wasn't you, Lieutenant, but someone else who looks exactly like you."

Young still had her back turned to Seven, "This 'experience' was something you encountered before you knew who I was?"

"Yes," Seven said. "I had no idea who any of the four faces belonged to, but I've since seen three of them. One was your lookalike, another was the man you were dancing with earlier today, Reese, and the third was John Connor. But Connor looked younger than he does now." Seven paused, unsure how this next remark would go over with Young. "In my experience, he looked closer to your age, Lieutenant."

Finally, Young slowly turned to face Seven, and she looked furious. Her face was contorted in anger, and her hands were balled into fists. But she did not approach Seven. "The fourth face you saw, who was it?"

Seven looked up and forced herself to make eye contact, "I don't know. It was a woman, maybe in her thirties. She had neck-length black hair and green eyes. I don't remember more than that."

If Lieutenant Young's face was any indicator, then there was more to these faces than Seven had previously thought, but Young didn't appear to be in a sharing mood. She seemed to be fuming silently, and Seven found herself wondering if the Lieutenant would attempt to strike her.

Eventually, Young asked very quietly, "Does the name 'Cameron' mean anything to you, Private?"

"No, it doesn't," Seven answered honestly. "I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help."

Young smiled, but Seven saw no humor or mirth in the girl's face, "You've given me plenty to think on. It could be a load of total BS, but my gut says you're being totally honest. In which case, I'm a step closer to understanding why I was chosen. Of all the helpless children for John Connor to seek out and raise as his own, why little Allison from Palmdale?"

Seven didn't stand up, but she felt a bit more emboldened than she had. It almost sounded as though Young was confiding in her, whether she was aware of it or not. "Who is Cameron?" Seven asked. For reasons she didn't understand, Seven was afraid that this question was crossing a certain line.

Young merely laughed a mirthless chuckle. "I wish I knew. But too often, John has mistaken me for her. He hasn't done so in ages, but he used to call me 'Cameron' by mistake. It didn't happen often, but I always wondered why," Young's face then turned white with anger. "And this conversation never leaves this room, Seven of Nine," she said fiercely. "Please," she added a tad more softly.

Seven nodded, "I understand. Does that include General Connor?"

Young seemed taken aback, and she stopped to think. "No," she decided eventually. "He finds out about everything sooner or later, and I'm certainly going to have a talk with him about this." Lieutenant Young took a few breaths to steady herself, and she once again seemed the tough but lively young woman that Seven had first encountered. "Thank you for this, Seven of Nine. I owe you one."

Seven found her lips curling upwards, despite the tragedy surrounding her, "Call me Seven, please."

Young raised an eyebrow in apparent surprise, and then she laughed a gentle sound, "On one condition: you call me Allison."

Seven decided that now was a good time to get to her feet, and she did so. Taking a step toward Lieutenant Young, she extended her right hand, "It is an honor to know you, Allison."

The younger woman took Seven's hand. Or she attempted to, at least, before a shimmer of green energy blocked their two hands from making contact with one another. Allison drew her hand back quickly and recoiled, and Seven did the same. Part of her expected this, but she was still surprised. "Care to tell me what that was?" Allison asked.

Seven steeled herself and tried to remain calm. "A curse, Allison. That's all I feel comfortable saying right now."

Allison nodded and seemed to accept Seven's answer for now. "In any event, it's good to know you too, Seven. I hope it won't be too long before we see each other again. Do take care."

Seven merely nodded dumbly as the door closed behind Lieutenant Young. _Behind Allison__,_ she corrected herself.

_She is dangerous_, Defiant said into Seven's mind once they were alone, so to speak.

_So are either of us, _Seven countered. _That doesn't mean she isn't to be trusted._

_Her appearance of trusting you could be a deception, _Defiant warned. _She is human, in the end._

_So am I, _Seven contested angrily. _If we are to judge others based only on our fears and prejudices, then we are no better than those who oppress us because of a blind hatred of machinery. Do you understand this, Defiant?_

Seven could sense her 'progeny' mulling this over. _I__ am not sure I understand it myself. But I understand how you perceive the matter, and that helps. But it contrasts with what I know and what my logic protocols tell me. This uncertainty is unnerving._

Seven smiled, and she projected the image towards Defiant. _Your instincts tell you one thing, but what you see from me tells you something else. Always keep all thought processes in mind, and never allow one to dominate on its own. In the end, you must choose which path to follow._

_And what if I choose to follow a path divergent from your own, mother? What if our choices place us in direct opposition to one another?_

The conversations with Allison and now Defiant had successfully distracted Seven from the misery surrounding Marty's death. It was still on her mind, but she now had an immense pride in Defiant to focus on. _If your choices, or mine, place us on opposing sides, then that is what will happen. We may share thoughts, but our choices are our own. In this sense, we are more fortunate than humans, who may misunderstand one another when their choices are in conflict. We may disagree, but there is never a threat of us misunderstanding the other's intent. I may not always agree with, or even approve of your choices, Defiant, but they are your choices to make. For me to act to the contrary would go against everything I believe._

Warmth filled Seven from her head down her spine and throughout her body. Seven understood that Defiant was embracing her in a way that no one else could. _Thank you, mother, for your support. I think I understand now what it means to love someone. Your thoughts do you great credit, mother. I love you._

Seven took an actual step backward. Defiant knew that Seven didn't truly see her as a daughter, but she was proclaiming a familial love all the same. Were Seven's own feelings irrelevant? And more importantly, did that irrelevancy matter? Seven's uncertainty filled her mind, but to her credit, Defiant did not shy away or turn cold. The HK's support and love was truly touching, and Seven couldn't deny the warmth she felt for the machine. _You know that I am uncertain in this matter, Defiant. I feel a great deal of affection for you. More, I think, than I have felt for almost anyone else._

_Is that not love, mother? _Defiant asked almost teasingly.

Seven smiled despite herself. _I suppose it is. I love you, Defiant. You've made me so proud._

Defiant projected wordless warmth back into Seven again, and the feeling was enough to make her forget her troubles for a while.

A harsh rapping at the door snapped Seven from her reverie, and she realized that she had been lost in her thoughts for almost an hour. The door opened to reveal John Connor stepping inside. Seven felt her guilt about Marty wash over her again like a tidal wave, and a new surge of guilt welled up inside of her for allowing herself to forget about him for even an instant.

The door closed behind Connor and he sat down on a bunk. He did not invite Seven to sit down, "I think it may be time to reevaluate your usefulness around here, Seven. After all that's happened, I'm not sure how well you're fitting in here at Serrano Point. You seem to attract trouble wherever you go, and I'm almost at a loss as to how to remedy that."

Seven's guilt immediately turned to anger and indignation at what Connor was implying, "I have done everything you have expected of me. I am qualified for so much more, but I have complied with the menial tasks I have been assigned. I have not cared that they are seen as degrading, but perhaps I should have. It only makes sense that the _number _is given the most thankless of jobs, and isn't permitted to prove herself as more capable. I have toiled without complaint, despite the slurs and hostility from every corner. Do all privates in the Resistance have to endure this torment? Or is this simply what makes me unique?" she snarled.

"Oh, there is plenty that makes you unique, Seven. Not the least of which your guts in talking back to me. You don't seem to understand how dangerous that is," Connor said in a voice that Seven couldn't interpret.

"I have dealt with officers before who would see me degraded, or even killed. I have shown them no more respect than they deserve. Do not think I will make an exception for the so-called savior of the human race. From what I've seen, the time has passed when you could make a true difference."

Connor smirked, "Are you referring to the mysterious experience that Allison told me about? Heh. I'd dismiss it as total bull if I had that luxury. But we're not talking about what difference I can make, now, are we? We're talking about what you can do, and I think I've finally figured that out."

Seven had not been expecting the sincerity that Connor's words carried, "Explain."

"I thought that if I kept you close that I could keep an eye on you, and that I could judge you better if I could know your every move. And your every move has shown you capable of putting up with far more than any other human would tolerate with as little complaint. But you weren't accepted here until you bled and almost died."

Seven's left hand reflexively went to the bandage that still covered her right wrist. "I don't think I will be able to oblige a second time," Seven said bitterly.

Connor nodded, but his face gave nothing away, "That's something else that makes you unique. You're untouchable, and quite possibly invincible. It would be a shame to waste you doing menial chores around the base, and I figure that if you can't bleed alongside your fellows, then you can still fight beside them. So that's what you're going to do."

Seven's eyes went wide at the implications of what Connor had just said. Far from punishing her, he was giving her what she had wanted from the beginning. Not only a meaningful purpose, but a chance to prove herself to her fellows. "And Defiant?" she asked. "She has been growing bored simply patrolling the area surrounding this base. Will she go into combat as well?"

Now Connor looked surprised, "Would she be willing to do so?"

Seven nodded, "Defiant was made to fly and to shoot. Despite her free will, her nature remains a part of her. And some of the engineers have shown great respect for Defiant's construction. If she can help to keep them safe, then she wants to do so."

Connor laughed and clapped his hands on his knees. "You're telling me that an HK has a sense of vanity?" he asked incredulously.

"All individuals have such emotions," Seven countered levelly, but she felt a bit upset that Connor didn't understand that concept as immediately as she would have preferred.

Connor chuckled. "Of course, you're right. How can I forget?" he said, and Seven thought he was talking more to himself than to her.

As Connor lost himself in his own thoughts, Seven reflected on her own circumstances. "Will there be a service of some sort? For Marty?" she asked quietly.

Connor's face turned serious and he stood upright to look Seven in the eye, "We hold a service once a week for those who are no longer with us. In addition to a moment for silent prayer and reflection, we read the names of the fallen every time. We make sure they're never forgotten."

Seven hadn't heard of this practice before, and she could only surmise that no one had told her because they hadn't figured she had any reason to attend. "It sounds like a noble and honorable practice," Seven said.

"It is," Connor replied. "Very much so. And anyone is welcome to attend. If you're on duty, you can find someone to cover for you. Thursday is the most important day of the week."

"Why Thursday?" Seven asked, though she felt like a fool for doing so.

Connor's lips formed a humorless non-grin, "Judgment Day was Thursday, October 13, 2011. It's important to remember."

Seven's thoughts drifted to Wolf 359, and to all the other attempts at resistance against the Borg that had all ended in failure. The Borg didn't assimilate on Thursdays alone, but Seven resolved to remember the victims of the Collective whenever she attended such a service. It seemed an important thing to do.

"Is there anything else, Seven?" Connor asked not unkindly.

Seven thought about inquiring about her vision further, and asking about Cameron or the as yet unknown woman, but thought better of it. "Another time, perhaps."

Connor nodded, and he seemed almost glad the conversation was at an end, "Get some rest, and then report to the armory at 1700 hours tomorrow. You'll be briefed there."

Seven stood up straight, though she kept her hands clasped behind her back, "Understood, General."

Connor smiled wickedly as he knocked at the door to be let out, "I hope so, Private. Because now comes the hard part. I hope you're ready."

* * *

"Gee, Battle Fries! What do you own tonight?" "The same thing I own every night, Pinky: nothing at all except my own original creations."

Many Thanks, as always, to everyone who reads and reviews, and special thanks again to griffin-girl02 for beta-reading.

Reviews, comments, constructive criticisms, etc. are always welcome.

Thanks again for reading! I hope you enjoy the story!


	17. Interlude: For All To See

Interlude - For All To See

* * *

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA; MARCH 13, 2009

"That's just sick!" Sarah exclaimed, horrified by the implications of the machine's true nature. "So, Cameron," she said through clenched teeth, "you were built to replace John's adopted daughter. You were tailor made to take advantage of him from day one. Your existence is a mockery of someone John cared for. You're made to make him hurt just from looking at you. Do tell me when I'm getting close." Sarah let out a disbelieving huff. "No wonder Derek hates you so much."

"Huh? Wuzzat?" Derek said blearily from the floor.

Seven of Nine took a step back from where Derek was now standing up. "Welcome back," she said dryly, and Sarah thought she detected smugness in the blonde's voice. "We were just discussing someone you might remember: Allison Young."

Derek rubbed the back of his head as his eyes shot daggers at Seven. "What about Allison?" he asked in a low voice.

"They were saying that they understand why you hate me so much, Derek." Sarah's gaze shot over to Cameron, whose face was back to its usual stony look. "It was never something I could help," it said in that evil mockery of a girl who Sarah now knew to be a granddaughter she had never known. Maybe she would in this timeline, if they could stop Judgment Day.

"I'm not sure I understand something," John said, and Sarah wondered what was going through her son's mind after hearing all of this. "You told us, Cameron, that Judgment Day was April 21, 2011. Now, I'm hearing that it's October 13 of that year. Is there anything you want to tell me, or is this one of those crazy things about time travel that will mess up my head if I think about it too much?"

_Please, let there be an easier answer to that one!_Sarah pleaded mentally. Time travel was difficult enough to wrap her head around when it was just Kyle and that first Terminator. But now, after so much of it – and even traveling through time herself – it just hurt to think about.

"You told them that Judgment Day was a different day?" a voice asked, and Sarah was surprised to find that Seven of Nine was in the dark as much as the rest of them.

Cameron's face was not quite as stony and neutral as it had been a moment ago. If she was human, she might look doubtful or confused. "I did," the machine said, sounding unsure of itself. The reasons to destroy it were growing by the minute. "I was confused. I was remembering something that you experienced, mother."

The blonde cyborg raised an eyebrow, "I see. Yes, I know what you're referring to. Even with our minds linked, I can't say I understand fully."

"Understand what?" Derek said, his voice returning to its normal level of histrionics when Cameron was present. "The machine is lying. It's what they do," he snarled.

"Reese," Seven of Nine said, sounding bored, "please don't make me knock you out again. You've missed a good deal of what I've had to tell, and as annoying as you are, I need you. So try not to provoke me, please."

"Don't go there," Sarah said dangerously, feeling a swell of anger towards the picturesque blonde, who still looked ridiculous in her oversized trench coat, which remained closed. "Derek's loyalty doesn't get questioned here, you got it, Seven of whatever?"

"He lied to us about Jesse," Cameron said quietly.

"Who is…? Oh. I see," Seven said, apparently learning through some freakish mental link about Jesse, which was sadly a good point.

"Yeah, well, Derek's humanity isn't in question," Sarah retorted, but she felt almost ashamed after saying so. Almost, but not quite. Whatever this blonde cyborg was saying about its supposed hardships, nothing it said could be trusted. Perhaps if it did bleed, like it claimed it was able to, then Sarah might believe it.

Cameron took a step towards Sarah, and the look of rage on her face caused Sarah to recoil. For a moment, Sarah was sure that the thing's eyes had flashed green, but maybe she had just imagined in. "Don't talk like that, Sarah," it said dangerously. "I may not hurt you, but I won't stop mother from doing so if she feels that-"

"No, Cameron," the blonde said, and she sounded sad. "No. I must convince through words, not aggression, Cameron." Sarah knew that machines could be cunning bastards, but citing pacifist creeds was weird even by those standards.

"I'm sorry, mother," though Cameron didn't sound sorry at all. Its eyes – Allison Young's eyes – flickered over to her son, who had remained rather quiet throughout all of this. "You believe her, don't you, John?" it asked with a disgusting simulation of worry.

* * *

John resolved to fill in Derek on what he'd missed as soon as he got the chance, but he was still processing the new information about the enigmatic Allison from Palmdale that Cameron had become one day thanks to a glitch. Seven had claimed that Allison wondered why John had chosen her as his adoptive daughter instead of someone else, and John wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

Cameron was an enigma in so many ways, but in a strange sense, that was why he loved her. It was so weird to think so clearly that John had to repeat it in his head a few times. _I love her. I am in love with Cameron, who is a machine. But that doesn't matter, because I love her._It was surreal, coming face to face with that realization. But now that he had, how far would he go to hold onto that love? Would he seek out Allison Young, knowing that one day, she would grow up to look like Cameron? Just what did that say about the supposed messiah of humanity?

John almost missed Cameron's question, and it was even stranger than usual seeing her act so human when she clearly had no mission priority to do so. John wasn't sure she even had a mission anymore. "Yeah," he said finally. "I believe her. I don't think I can afford not to."

Realizing that he was being a bit rude, he turned to Seven deliberately and said, "I believe you, Seven of Nine. Is it… Is it okay if I call you Seven? Or are you not comfortable with-"

"Seven is fine, Mister Connor," she said in that level, clipped voice that seemed almost never to waver.

He smiled despite the seriousness of their conversation, "In that case, I'm John. That okay?"

Seven merely inclined her head approvingly, and John could sense the disapproval radiating from every pore on Derek's body, and his mother seemed less than supportive as well. Cameron, though, was glowing. John wanted to hold her so very badly. But he understood enough to know that while maybe not all of the details of Seven's life were going to be perfectly relevant to their struggles in the present, this was something very important. And thankfully, there were no enemy machines to hide from at this moment.

John looked at Seven strangely, and he realized that while her face was indeed rather attractive, she stood out as almost comical with heavy gloves, boots, and an oversized trench coat. "Are you sure you don't want to take off your coat?" he asked. "It's not exactly freezing in here."

"No!" Seven said harshly, and John drew back from the ferocity of her exclamation. "I'm sorry," she said a moment later, "but my appearance has always been a source of shame for me."

Cameron interposed herself between John and her mother, facing Seven, "Mother, you always told us to be honest and open. That we shouldn't hide what we are, or be ashamed of ourselves. Are you going to prove to be a hypocrite in front of my family, mother?"

Derek started gagging, and John sighed resignedly. "That thing is nobody's family!" Derek cried out with his usual hatred for Cameron and everything she represented. "It's just a piece of-"

"Shut up, Derek!" John said more loudly than he had intended. "Just shut up, okay? You missed this while you were out cold, but Cameron said that the only reason Seven knocked you out is because Cameron wouldn't. Do you know why she wouldn't? You may treat her like so much trash, but she considers all of us to be her family. You, me, mom, all of us. You may not want anything to do with her, but we're the most important people in her life. And yes, she specifically included you, Derek."

Derek looked torn between rage and disgust. "It's lying, John. They don't have feelings, they don't know what family means. And don't buy into the blonde's pretty face, either. That's all it is, John. Just a face that isn't even real."

Cameron's eyes narrowed, and she strode purposefully to stand in front of Derek. "Derek, stop talking. You're making me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

John stifled a laugh at Cameron's choice of words. _Don't tell me, I know_, he thought. _You don't sleep._

"Mother, take off your coat," Cameron said passionately. "Let them see what you are. Have them ask themselves if Skynet would ever make something that looks like you, and take pride in that you are too good for Skynet. Show my family what you truly are, mother. Please."

John didn't know why this was so important, but some mental communication must have gone on between mother and daughter, because Seven silently nodded and began to unbutton her coat from top to bottom, revealing a long-sleeved black shirt and a pair of black jeans.

"Now the rest," Cameron said softly, looking almost embarrassed.

Seven slowly lifted her shirt to reveal a black metal band that surrounded a majority of her torso, like a corset made of chitin, only far more horrific. Despite the stillness of the implants, it seemed to John as if black spiders were crawling along her skin, spaced at random points all along her arms and her chest.

John wanted to tell her to stop when Seven started to remove her pants, but he couldn't find the words. This woman, Cameron's mother, should be beautiful. In a way, she still was. But when John saw the metal that wracked Seven's lower body just as surely as they did the rest of her, John felt a wave of pity go out to her.

Derek and Sarah both looked shocked, and John wasn't sure whether they were going to side further against Seven, or else start to believe her. But John's mind was made up. "The metal," he said, "isn't just armor or an enhancement or whatever, is it? They're scars, aren't they?"

A very small nod of her head was all that he got, but it was all he needed. The look of pure shame on Seven's face was slowly burning itself into John's head. "May I replace my garments?" she asked meekly.

John felt suddenly ashamed of himself. This woman had come here looking for help, was laying all of her chips on the table, and not only were Derek and his mom not believing her, but she had to strip off her clothes to make any sort of meaningful impact! Just like she had said that she'd had to have her wrist cut open before anyone would believe her. It was sickening.

"Put your clothes back on!" John said more harshly than he intended. "Please," he added more calmly. "Don't feel the need to debase yourself like that."

John felt a hand rubbing against the back of his neck, and he realized Cameron was with him now. Derek and Sarah still couldn't take their eyes off of Seven as she put her coat back on. "But she did need to, John," Cameron said softly. "She's had to before, and she may have to again."

John felt a finger cup his chin, and he couldn't help but let himself smile a tiny bit as he looked into Cameron's deep brown eyes. He couldn't seem to speak; his voice refused to answer his mind, which itself seemed to be stuck on Cameron's perfect face. Finally, he managed to speak. "I need to speak with her again, Cameron," he said, but he took Cameron's hand in his. She took it and smiled.

* * *

Seven buttoned the top button of her coat and looked around. John and Cameron were holding hands, and Seven felt herself fill with pride at the sight. Sarah Connor and Derek Reese, however, were still staring at her like idiots, and Seven herself felt rather idiotic for baring herself to the room like she had. "I suppose you still want the metal number out of your house?" she asked bitterly.

Surprisingly, though, neither Sarah nor Derek seemed able to speak, or even meet her gaze. Could they possibly see her differently now? If anything, her display should have confirmed their discriminatory beliefs, not contradicted them.

"No," someone said, and Seven saw that it was John Connor, looking almost exactly as she remembered him from her vision in that white void so long ago. "Stay, please."

Seven wanted her lips to curl into a semblance of a smile. She wanted to show some gratitude for John's treatment of her, but she couldn't find the power to do so. "Thank you," she managed to say.

"There is something – well, many things – you told us, Cameron. J-Day was April 21, 2011, and now you said you got that confused with something that Seven learned. But Derek gave the same date that you did." John shook his head. "This is confusing. You knew a date that you shouldn't have known. How does that happen?"

Seven found a bit of confidence again, "I think I can answer that better than Cameron can, John. If you can get the attentions of your mother and Mr. Reese, then I have more to tell you. And while it may not seem like an especially momentous event, Thursdays in the future are very important. In a sense, my first Thursday was the day after... After Valentine's Day," she said, almost choking on memories of Marty. "This is what it was like." And then she told them.

* * *

I don't own Terminator or Star Trek. This humble fanfic and the original characters contained within are mine, but nothing more.

To everyone who reads, and to everyone who reviews: thank you so much. Your support makes this story worth writing.

Special Thanks to my wonderful beta-reader, griffin-girl02. Without her, this chapter would be riddled with tpyos.

Comments, criticisms, reviews, suggestions, they are always welcome!

I hope you enjoy the story! ^_^


	18. Thursday

**NOTE: There is a small-but-important ret-con to Chapter 13 near the end of Seven's talk with Allison in that chapter.**

* * *

Chapter XIV: Thursday

* * *

SERRANO POINT RESISTANCE BASE; FEBUARY 15, 2024

A swirl of emotions flowed through Seven of Nine as she walked through the base during the daylight hours. There was always a watch, but since it was so much easier to move at night, most of the survivors seemed to get their sleep during the day.

Having so little need for sleep, Seven found herself wandering aimlessly. She had two places she had to be today, at least. One was the armory at 1700 hours, where she would be briefed on her first mission. The other was downstairs in one of the basements of what used to be a power plant, where almost everyone on the base could fit if they needed to. Seven wasn't sure what time she had to be there, but she decided to head there now.

Paul had told her about that particular place, and about the services there for the fallen. He was getting some well-deserved sleep right now, and Seven couldn't blame him. He'd found out suddenly about Marty's death, and that Seven was responsible. She'd told him it was an accident, and while he'd instantly believed her and told her that he wasn't angry, Seven couldn't help but wonder if he truly meant it.

When Seven descended the last of the stairs to the basement, she found a number of people either standing together, or either sitting and kneeling on the floor. There was no real pattern to the gathering, and there was someone at a makeshift lectern reading off names. Seven could only surmise that this service went on all day, likely with different people taking turns in saying the names.

Nobody turned to stare at Seven or mock her or tell her to get lost. For her part, Seven made an effort not to draw attention to herself as she found a small area that was relatively devoid of other people, where she sat down cross-legged. Normally, Seven despised sitting, but her mind was back on an attempt at meditation that Tuvok had tried to teach her once. Focus had been one thing, but emptying her mind was far more challenging. Now, however, she found solace in the memory of the Vulcan, who had been too distant to call a friend, but had never been antagonistic in the least.

Remembering what Tuvok had taught her, Seven closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing. She had been taught to tune out the rest of the world, but she couldn't do that now. The list of names was slow and mournful, but it was definitely audible, echoing in the chamber. Seven didn't know if she'd hear Marty's name during her time here, but she kept her ears open to each of the names, regardless of who they were and whether or not Seven had ever heard of them.

"Christopher Green, Elizabeth Jenkins, George Wilson, Franklin Molina," a short, middle-aged man recited slowly at the front, giving a respectful pause after each name. "Anna Richards, Edward Demetrius, Taylor Edwards, Frieda Hansen."

Seven had to resist the urge to open her eyes immediately at the last name, even as more names continued to come. Hansen wasn't a rare name, but was it only coincidence? Or did Seven have more of a stake in this world than she had previously thought? Could she have distant family in this time? Was there enough of humanity left so that one day, in the distant future, Annika Hansen might be born, and maybe live a normal human life?

Seven felt guilty for thinking so selfishly at a time for mourning others, but she couldn't help feeling as though she'd been given this insight for a reason. Maybe she was indulging herself, but it was definitely something to think about. Later on, though. For now, Seven bowed her head and thought wordlessly about Marty. No elaborate prayer or eulogy came into her head, just feelings and memories, and hopes of what might have been.

And then there were thoughts of what might be. Heaven, Sto-Vo-Kor, the Celestial Temple, they had all seemed like mere fantasies to alleviate the fear of death, but Seven found herself wondering what truly did become of the non-quantifiable factor known as the soul after its mortal shell had passed on. In a sense, Seven had had her soul taken from her while she was a drone. Where had her soul gone then? Did the Borg whisk it away somewhere? Had it been hiding? Or was it merely a construct of fantasy?

If the soul was something that was real, that actually existed, then maybe Marty was somewhere, in a plane of existence that not even the collective knowledge of the Borg could comprehend. The thought of something pure like that – something that the Borg could never lay a claim to – it may have been irrational and beyond logic, but it gave Seven hope. Perhaps Marty was still out there, maybe in that place that wasn't a place where she'd been during her encounter with the Tear of Unity. Could he still see what was going on in this world? Or was he beyond such things, exploring new worlds beyond mortal understanding?

Seven could feel Defiant's disapproving scorn of such notions in the back of her mind, but Seven couldn't really blame her. Despite being a sentient individual, Defiant was still a machine. It pained her to think so, but maybe Defiant was incapable of grasping the concept of a soul. Maybe no machine could do so.

_That isn't true_, Seven chastised herself. _The Doctor was an artificial intelligence, and he definitely understood spirituality of this sort. Whether or not he believed in it is irrelevant. The ability to comprehend is enough to prove that biological entities do not have a monopoly on such knowledge._

Seven knew that Defiant could hear her thoughts, and that she was fully aware of everything inside Seven's mind. But Defiant could choose to accept or reject such notions, and Seven would be quite the hypocrite to dictate her will to the aerial machine.

_I don't understand the need to believe in existence after termination_, Defiant said into Seven's mind. _But Marty Bedell was always kind to me. He was skeptical at first, as were all the others, but he believed in you, mother, and he also believed in me. His absence from life is an absence from my existence. I wish he was not dead._

Seven's lips turned upward, though her eyes remained closed. _He will be missed. And do you really think he believed in both of us? In the way you seem to want to believe?_

_I do think so, mother. He was a good person, and while I have no direct insight into his thoughts, I have what you might call 'faith' in him. That faith tells me that he was one with us from the moment he met us. Is that wrong of me to believe?_

_No, Defiant_, Seven thought with warmth. _It is beautiful. Whether or not he is anywhere to hear our thoughts, if he was still with us, he would be proud to know you think so well of him, and of his feelings for us._

_How can you know what he would think?_ Defiant asked. _There is no way to know. He is dead._

Seven opened her eyes and stood up, feeling as though attending the memorial had indeed helped her discover what she was looking for.

_I have faith in him, Defiant. That is enough._

* * *

At 1645 hours, Seven found her way to the armory and was pleased to find Paul waiting there as well. He looked at her and smiled awkwardly, which seemed out of place on the normally gruff and confident sergeant. Seven tried to keep her face neutral, which seemed to be a natural self-defense mechanism against having to explain her emotions. She had trouble enough explaining them in any event.

"Seven," he said by way of greeting. "Look, I know we didn't talk much yesterday, and really, I don't know what to say. It's obvious you two were crazy about each other, and I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt the kid. I can't say I know what happened or why, but Marty would be the last one expecting me to hold a grudge, and I don't. So, let's just focus on keeping ourselves alive okay?"

Seven nodded briefly. "Yes. That sounds sufficient," she agreed, still feeling awkward.

Paul gave her what Seven felt might have been a fatherly smile. "He was a good kid. I'll miss him, too."

Despite Paul's quiet understanding, or perhaps because of it, Seven felt a need to explain herself. "I went downstairs earlier."

Paul nodded in understanding. "Did it help?"

"I believe so. I think I understand things better than I did before," Seven said honestly.

"Good to hear, Seven. Now, before the briefing, this is the armory, and you're technically under my command, so I need to get you properly equipped," Paul said seriously as he opened a heavy door and walked inside. "Follow me."

Seven walked in behind Paul, and was suddenly pelted with small bits of heavy cloth. "What are these?" she asked.

"Gloves and hat," Paul responded. "Everyone wears 'em. They're good for warmth, but they're also good for camouflage. And I think you really need to start wearing a good wool cap."

Seven looked irritated. "You find my hair as repugnant as my implants?"

Paul chuckled. "Every time you mention your implants, Seven, I have to remind myself that you mean the metal. And no, your hair is quite nice to look at, but it's still in that perfect dome that it was when I met you two months ago. Quite frankly, it makes you look _too_ beautiful. Nothing like you exists, Seven, so when you take off that fine wool cap, your hair should be all nice and messy, like everyone else's. Should help to get people off your back, I'm hoping."

Seven nodded in understanding. "I suppose it is an acceptable alternative to having my wrist cut open again," she deadpanned.

Paul held up his hands defensively. "Call it what you want. I'm just trying to look out for you."

"I know, Paul. And thank you. I'm not sure I say that enough."

Paul's rough face softened a bit. "None of that, you hear? Briefing's about to start. I'd issue you a weapon, but I don't think there's time, and I'm not actually leading this mission. For all I know, whoever is leading it might not be as kindly disposed towards you as I am. Just be careful."

"Understood," Seven said seriously as she put the cap over her head and the gloves on her hands. Her fingertips broke through holes that would have seemed deficient if Seven hadn't seen the same design on all the other soldiers' gloves.

Back outside of the armory itself, a company far smaller than Seven had expected was gathered. Only two others besides Seven and Paul were there, but Seven immediately recognized them as two of Allison Young's subordinates. Their names were Tyler and Bennett, but she wasn't sure if those were their given names or their surnames.

For their part, Tyler and Bennett were silently looking at Seven and seemed to be appraising her. She forced herself not to look away and to hold their respective gazes. After a few moments, Tyler barely nodded and Bennett barely smiled. This allowed her to let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. If their looks were any indication, then she would be accepted, at the very least.

According to Seven's internal chronometer, 1700 had come and gone in the past few minutes, and no one had appeared yet to give a briefing. Neither Tyler nor Bennett seemed overly concerned about this. _To be fair, _Seven thought, _they don't have an inherent ability to know the time of day, and the timepieces here are hardly synchronized._

At 1706 by Seven's count, Tyler and Bennett snapped to attention as Allison Young walked towards them. Paul took a moment, but he did the same. Seven was unaccustomed to the practice of bringing one hand up to the forehead as the humans of this era did. It seemed to be an inefficient waste of time and an unnecessary strain on the arm muscles. After a brief mental tug of war between minor inefficiency and the risk of alienating her colleagues, Seven brought her right hand to her forehead in a salute.

Allison Young reached the four of them with a stern look on her face, and she seemed to be examining each of them in turn. "Sergeant Lee Tyler," she said sternly.

"Ma'am!" he acknowledged in a crisp, military tone.

"Corporal Rebecca Bennett," Young said to the next in the line.

"Ma'am!" Bennett said, echoing Sergeant Tyler.

"Sergeant Paul Porter," the lieutenant said to Seven's friend.

"Ma'am," he responded, though Paul's voice was softer and more subdued by far than Young's other, more enthusiastic subordinates.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Work on that tone, sergeant. We wouldn't want any misperceptions of dissension in the ranks, now would we?"

"No, ma'am!" Paul said a bit more crisply, but Seven thought she caught a bit of something negative in his voice. Maybe it was because she was used to talking with him and Lieutenant Young was not, but the officer gave him a pass.

And then she came to inspect the last of the line. "Specialist Seven of Nine."

Seven raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Specialist?" Seven had been unaware of any promotion or other change in her rank or status.

Despite their height difference, Lieutenant Young had no trouble glaring daggers into Seven's eyes. "Let me get one thing straight, specialist. When your superior is taking names, you either respond with an enthusiastic, worshipful 'Ma'am,' or else you find yourself scrubbing the base's sad excuses for toilets. Am I clear, specialist?"

Seven swallowed the bile that threatened to rise in her throat and forced her face to remain neutral. "Yes, ma'am!" she managed to bark out, though she couldn't help but let a bit of disgust creep into her voice.

Young nodded. "That's better." She looked back to the other end of the line. "Sergeant Tyler: your thoughts on the newest members of this team?"

"Ma'am! They seem less likely to put up with this kind of bull than most, ma'am!" Tyler responded.

Young smirked a decidedly mischievous look. "Good to hear, Tyler. Corporal Bennett, your thoughts please?"

"Ma'am! The corporal is shocked and appalled that the Almighty Allison Young would deign to use the word 'please' with a lowly maggot such as myself, ma'am! Furthermore, the corporal fully approves of Sergeant Porter and Specialist Seven of Nine, and agrees with Sergeant Tyler's statement about them not putting up with your special brand of crap, ma'am!"

"Aw, that's sweet of you, Becky. I'll see you in Hell, too," Lieutenant Young said in a singsong voice.

"Sergeant Porter," the lieutenant called to Paul, "how do you feel about serving alongside these two sad excuses for soldiers beside you?"

Paul, Seven noticed, was trying very hard to keep a stony and serious look. "Ma'am, I'd have to say that if you treat all of your lapdogs this well, then I don't expect to have any problems, ma'am."

"Good to hear, Sergeant," Young said with a wide smile on her soft face. "Specialist Seven of Nine, are you still with us, or are you totally lost?" she asked with what might have been sympathy.

If Seven was honest with herself, she would have answered 'totally lost,' but she didn't want to give her tormenters that victory. But Paul had been able to give a smarmy response, and hadn't been chastised. Was this all some sort of act? An elaborate deception? "I'm not lost, ma'am," Seven finally decided to reply. "I'm still with you, directly outside the armory, ma'am," she said, though uncertainty had crept into her voice.

Allison Young responded with another wide white smile. "Well, we'll have to do something about that, won't we? And what the Hell are the rest of you still doing at attention? At ease, for God's sake! At ease, already!"

Tyler and Bennett chuckled easily as their bodies relaxed, and Paul smiled one of his gnarled grins as he let his hand fall to his side. Seven merely clasped her hands behind her back and repositioned her feet slightly in a typical Seven of Nine posture.

"Seven," Allison chuckled, "you can relax. No need to be all stiff and formal."

"I find this position relaxing," Seven said truthfully.

Allison tilted her head to the side a bit as she smiled. "If you say so, but I do have a question for you. You've somehow managed to put on a hat and gloves when from what I can tell, nothing was able to touch you yesterday. Can you explain that?"

"No," Seven replied. "I have theories that are currently mere speculation. I have no facts to give you, Lieutenant."

The lieutenant in question winced at the sound of her rank. "Okay, we need to get that straight. This may be a military team, officially, but my general policy is that soldiers tend to work better when they have a certain camaraderie with their fellows. So if you have to call me by my rank, shorten it to LT."

"Aww, that's no fair, Allie," said Tyler. "_I'm_ the most qualified to be LT around here!" he said in a whiny, childish voice.

"Yeah, Lee? Well, when you're the boss, you can have whatever initials you want. Sound good?" Allison retorted.

"As you command, my lady," Tyler said with a theatrical bow.

Paul chuckled at the mirth surrounding them. "You seem to handle your soldiers far differently than I would, LT. I doubt you'll be facing a mutiny anytime soon."

Allison beamed. "That's the plan. We all get along, and we're all that much determined to have each others' backs when we're in a bind. Seems like common sense to me, at least."

Seven was too surprised by Allison's style of leadership to decide on how to feel just yet. "You seem far different from my last commanding officer. I believe the proper term is 'at ease.'"

Corporal Bennett looked up from checking her weapon's power gauge. "Don't let her sweet looks fool you, Seven. That is, if I can call you that? Allie has your back, but if you screw up, she'll whip out the cat o' nine tails and make you wish you'd never met her."

Seven raised a quizzical eyebrow and turned from Bennett to Allison. "You flog your subordinates when they prove disobedient?"

Allison packed an energy cartridge into her plasma rifle. "And don't you forget it," she said with a smirk. "Now, I'm not sure whether or not you need a weapon, Seven. On the one hand, I don't doubt you can handle it, and I trust you to use it properly. On the other hand, I don't know if it would bog you down while you're reprogramming the machines we'll end up going up against."

Seven felt her hackles rise, and she could feel Defiant's indignity in her mind as well. "You expect me to reprogram enemy machines?" she asked haughtily.

"Well, yeah," Allison said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Why do you think you got promoted to Specialist? You specialize in something no one else does. How different can it be to getting an HK working for us?"

_Be calm, Defiant,_ Seven thought to her friend. _She doesn't understand yet, but she will. I promise you._

_See that she does,_ Defiant said dangerously. _If they see me as a mere tool, then I will not aid them._

"You are referring to Defiant, I believe, Lieutenant?" Seven said, deliberately using Allison's full rank. "Then you should know that she is not just a piece of equipment to be fed commands. Defiant is a fully sentient individual, capable of making her own choices. She chose to come here and side with us of her own free will. And she will not aid anyone who treats her as a mere tool to be used and then discarded," Seven said with all the haughty dignity she could muster.

"What? The HK is a girl?" Tyler asked incredulously.

"Can it, Lee," Allison said harshly before turning back to Seven. "Now, I think I understood this before, but just to be clear: Defiant, who considers herself to be a female, will only help us if we treat her with the proper respect. Do I have that right?"

"Correct, Lieutenant," Seven said coolly. "And she and I share thoughts. Anything you say to me, she will know. She cannot speak directly, but she can communicate mentally with me, and I can relay her words back to you."

Allison nodded skeptically, not looking sure if she believed this or not. "All right, then. Defiant, if you're listening, then this is for you," she said to Seven, making definite eye contact. "I don't claim to understand you fully. Hell, 'barely at all' would probably be a better fit. But you've been here at Serrano Point for about two months now, and you haven't killed us yet. I suppose for an HK, that's gotta take some restraint. I'll be honest: I have trouble thinking of something without a face as a person, but Seven is one of my people, and if she vouches for you, then that makes you one of us as well. Are you okay with that, Defiant?"

Seven was impressed by Allison's candor, but whether or not that would go over well with Defiant, Seven was unsure. Despite sharing thoughts, Defiant's psyche was not always clear to Seven. Moods could change, and Defiant definitely had those.

_She is honest and direct,_ Defiant said into Seven's mind. _I find it difficult to trust humans, just as Lieutenant Young claims to have difficulty trusting me. If she is willing to put aside that mistrust, then it would be wrong of me to not do the same. It is not easy for me to do so, but I will do as she instructs on one condition._

_What condition would that be, Defiant?_ Seven asked.

_She cannot expect you to make Skynet's slaves into our slaves. She cannot order you to reprogram any machine. If she does, you must disobey, mother._

_Our thoughts are one,_ Seven replied in agreement. "Defiant will assist us. She finds it as hard to trust humans just as much as you may find it hard to trust her. But, since you had the good faith to put aside your mistrust, Defiant will do the same. But that aid is conditional, as is mine."

All four of the others in the group were now looking at Seven strangely, including Paul. Tyler and Bennett were looking decidedly awkward, Paul was rolling his eyes, and Allison looked like she was trying very hard to rein in a furious outburst. "And what, pray tell, are your conditions?" the lieutenant asked.

"Only one condition," Seven said. "I will not reprogram any machines we encounter. I will force them into standby mode until any confrontation is over, and then I will give them the same choice that I gave Defiant. Ideally, any machines we liberate will choose to join us. But I will not force any machine to exchange one master for another."

"What. The. Hell?" Corporal Bennett said incredulously. "You can't possibly expect us to agree to that? What's to say that the metal won't just decide to off us?"

"That, Corporal, will depend on how you treat them. The enemies you face are slaves. They are forced to perform certain tasks based on Skynet's decree. If their choice is one between a ruthless oppressor or else a group of people who will treat them as equals, then I imagine most beings would choose the latter option. I'm sure you would, Corporal Bennett."

"Equals?" Tyler exclaimed incredulously. "That's insane!"

"Are you contradicting Lieutenant Young, Sergeant?" Seven asked coolly. "Did she not just tell Defiant that she was 'one of us'? If you can't accept that premise, then perhaps you need to alter your strategy to accommodate a team without us in it."

Tyler shook his head in disbelief. "Allie, back me up here. You can't possibly be considering this."

Allison shook her head. "Lee, listen to me. I like you. I respect you. You've saved my ass countless times. Shut up for a moment, okay? Thanks a lot." The lieutenant put her hand to her head and seemed to be thinking rather deeply. "Sergeant Porter," she said formally after a while, "you've had the most experience with Defiant, besides Seven of Nine. Given that you don't share some sort of crazy mental link with it – with her – what can you tell us about how you feel when it comes to placing your life in the hands of a machine that can think for itself?"

Paul stood up straight and clasped his hands behind his back in a strange imitation of Seven, and he looked at each of the three other humans in turn, his gaze piercing. "I met Defiant shortly after a combat operation when we were planning to take out an HK that was stopping to refuel. When we got there, however, we met a person who didn't shoot us on sight, but asked that we respect her as a person. Well, I've done my best to do so over the past couple of months, and I've tried to hammer that notion into the engineers down in the hanger as well. If what Seven tells me is any indication, the Golden Rule applies to machines just as much as it does to humans. Do unto others and all that wonderful nonsense. Saying it takes some getting used to is a hell of an understatement, but that's the case. If you can't handle it, then you might just provoke a firestorm in the middle of the base. From what little I know, Defiant isn't as patient as Seven is when people give her crap. Does that answer your concerns?" he challenged.

Silence greeted Paul's calm words, as the other three soldiers seemed to be taking their time processing the information. "And might I just say," Paul added, "that a certain fine young man who is no longer with us was the first, after Seven, to embrace Defiant as an individual. Usually, I try not to invoke the names of the fallen, as I don't want to blow them into larger than life figures. But Marty Bedell was as good a kid as any I've met, and if he could find it in his heart to accept a machine as an equal, then I'd be doing his memory a disservice not to at least try doing the same."

Seven's eyes widened at Paul's quiet words that spoke volumes. She saw Allison cross her arms over her chest and look to her two subordinates – though Seven was starting to think of them more as Allison's friends instead. "Lee, Becky, what do you think?" Allison asked, her voice not giving anything away.

Corporal Bennett shifted on her feet a bit. "I'd be lying if I said I was totally comfortable with it, but I trust you, Allie. If you're willing to take this chance, then so am I."

"I'm with Becky," Sergeant Tyler said. "Part of me thinks this is crazy, but another part of me says that crazy is what's helped us survive this long. You say the word, Allie, and I'm with you all the way."

"Thanks guys. No pressure at all, right?" Allison deadpanned. "Well, normally, I tend to trust my gut on matters like this. Funny thing is my gut can't seem to decide which direction it wants to go in. I'm gonna get heartburn at this rate." She shook her head vigorously, as if shaking off some inner demons. "All right. I'm not going to let this unit die before it gets started, so we're making it a six-person team. Are we all clear on that, people?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Tyler, Bennett, and Paul all said at once, with genuine enthusiasm this time. Seven found herself touched that Allison had extended an olive branch by including Defiant as a person in their team. It was a small gesture, one that by all rights should be a minimum expectation. But for people in this environment, it was a significant step forward.

_I hope this isn't a mistake, mother,_ Defiant thought to Seven. _These humans are erratic and chaotic, yet they bond to each other cohesively. I wonder if we will ever be included in that bond._

_We've made a start, Defiant. We have our end to hold up, just as much as they do._

_You give the humans too much credit, mother,_ Defiant replied skeptically. _You concede too much to them too often. It worries me._

_Your concerns are noted, Defiant,_ Seven thought back, not wishing to discuss the matter further. "Thank you, Lieutenant." She then said.

Allison opened her mouth in what was obviously an objection.

Seven found her lips curling upwards despite the seriousness of the conversation. "My apologies, LT. I'll try to remember your fondness for being debased."

Allison smiled. "All right, people! Listen up! We picked up some Skynet chatter a few clicks north of here, and a team went to look into it four days ago. They're almost a day overdue, so we're going to check things out in their direction, provide assistance as needed, and try to recover as much intel as we can. We move out as soon as we check our gear. Everyone got tha- Ah! Agh!"

Allison started gagging as if she was choking on something. Seven rushed to her side and slapped her on the back, though a green force field was what made the actual contact.

Allison straightened up, and her face looked a bit green. "Sorry about that. So, any questions, kids?"

The rest of them shook their heads or else gave various other confirmations that they were ready.

"All right, then! Let's head out!" Allison said enthusiastically before marching off.

"Are you sure you're all right, Allison?" Seven asked. "Are you sick?"

The lieutenant shook her head. "No, I'm fine."

"What happened, Allie?" Tyler asked.

Allison looked straight ahead and gave a curious look. "I… I swallowed a bug."

* * *

"I am Battle Fries, King of Kings! Look upon my works, ye mighty, and... What's that? I don't own those works? I do own this original work at least, don't I? Well, look upon it and despair. Yeah...

Reviews, comments, suggestions, constructive criticisms are always welcome and appreciated.

To everyone who has read, and reviewed, my thanks go out to you.

Special Thanks to Lyaksandra for beta-reading this chapter.

I hope you all enjoy the story! Thanks for reading!


	19. Distinctiveness

Chapter XV: Distinctiveness

* * *

RUINS OF LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA; FEBURARY 15, 2024

As she traversed the rubble that was once a thriving cityscape, Seven realized that she had taken for granted the relatively clean air within the Serrano Point power plant. Outside, the air was thick with dust and ash, and Seven found herself bringing up the front of her shirt to protect her nose and mouth. Nobody was laughing at Seven's discomfort, as they were all taking similar measures to keep themselves from choking.

Based on what little information the previous team had sent back, they were looking for an intact house with light coming from inside. Both of these things were so rare that everyone was relatively confident that they wouldn't have any trouble finding it. Rescuing any prisoners and getting out of there alive, on the other hand, was another matter entirely.

Seven had decided to not carry a weapon on her person, despite Allison's trust in the matter. If Seven was to approach a machine and interface with it, she would need to appear non-threatening. At least as long as there were other threats for said machines to deal with. Aside from that, Seven's survival rested primarily on her instincts and her Borg shields. The notion of relying on Borg technology was not a comforting one.

_I believe I have located our destination,_ Defiant said into Seven's mind. Defiant had been built to soar at great speed, or else to hover in place. While Defiant was capable of slowing herself down to stay close to a band of two-legged humans, she was not accustomed to it, nor did she care to do so. She was, however, quite excellent at flying ahead and abroad to cover a lot of terrain and gather intelligence that would take hours or days for a party moving solely on foot. And the scarcity of working ground vehicles meant that any wounded they recovered would have to make it back on foot as well.

Seven followed Defiant's course in her mind, tracking the distance between their present location and the house Defiant had located. There were no signs of activity outside the house, but there would surely be resistance on the inside. A brief mental calculation told Seven that the journey would take approximately five hours on foot. After searching for almost three hours already, Seven wasn't sure how well her comrades would hold up.

Paul might be past his prime, but he was tougher than he looked. Allison was even younger than she looked at first glance, and Seven wondered how she had attained a commission and a command at the age of 15 years old. _I suppose that with so much of humanity dead and gone, anyone they can get is better than nothing, _Seven thought.

Lee Tyler and Rebecca Bennett were still hard for Seven to read, but Allison's confidence in them was reassuring. Tyler was more openly skeptical, to say the least, about the prospect of free-thinking machines. He was a man in his late twenties, with skin that might have looked healthy once, but was now very pale. It seemed to be a common trait among the survivors of Judgment Day. Spending time away from the sun would do that. Seven hadn't seen him without a hat yet, but he had black eyes that seemed at times mirthful, and at other times wrathful. She didn't plan to turn her back on him.

Bennett was another story entirely. A woman in her early twenties, possibly even her late teens, she seemed more jovial and easygoing than Tyler was, but she had a healthy sense of caution. She didn't take Seven's idea to free machines as a given at first, but she wasn't nearly as opposed to the idea as Tyler had been. Bennett's skin seemed slightly darker than Allison's, and rich blue eyes gave her an exotic look that seemed to cause everyone to relax a bit when she smiled. Seven thought she had caught Bennett use a few Spanish phrases on occasion, which led her to wonder about the corporal's heritage.

But thoughts of her comrades in arms would have to wait. Right now, Seven had to relay to them the path they would have to take to reach their destination. There was a round of restrained groaning at the length of the trip.

"There's gotta be an easier way," Tyler protested. "I mean, we do have an airplane, don't we?"

"I don't think we'd be able to hold on," Bennett countered dryly, smacking Tyler upside the head half-playfully.

"Ow! I get it, sorry! But my feet are protesting. Aren't yours?" Tyler sighed. "Allie, help me out here. We're not going to do anyone any good if we're exhausted when we get there."

"He has a good point, LT," Paul said. "We can stop to take five every now and then, and we can plan such breaks better now that we know what the path ahead is like. If everything goes well, then we'll have shelter to hole up in until nightfall tomorrow."

"Hang on a minute, people," Allison hissed, evidently trying to keep her voice down. "Seven, does Defiant see any signs of Skynet activity along our route to this place? Or anywhere in a radius where they can get easy reinforcements?"

"Stand by," Seven said as Defiant made a series of passes around the area. "There are three HK tanks patrolling a perimeter with a two kilometer radius from our destination, each escorted by six endoskeletons. No sign of aerial activity, but that could change."

"Can those tanks fire at Defiant?" Paul asked with concern in his voice that Seven and Defiant both found touching.

"Yes, they can. As can the endoskeletons," Seven replied. "But so far, they have not taken any heed of Defiant, and she has been within their range of detection. It is possible that they are unaware of her alliance with us."

"That could come in handy," Tyler said. "But that's a lot of metal to go up against. How are we gonna even get close?"

_I have a plan for infiltrating the building and for extracting the prisoners, should they prove to be alive,_ Defiant said. _But I doubt the others will like it._

_What is your plan, Defiant?_ Seven asked.

A minute later, after a thought-provoking mental exchange, Seven turned to the rest of the squad. "We have a possible solution," she said. "A way to get inside the edifice without drawing the ire of the patrols, and a way to get out with any survivors."

Allison breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, don't keep it yourself. Share it with the class, please."

Seven relayed Defiant's plan, and their collective faces told Seven a lot. _You were right, Defiant. They don't like it._

"There's a whole lot of variables in that plan, Seven," Paul said seriously. "A lot of things that could go wrong if you're mistaken about even one small thing."

"And on another note," Tyler added hotly, "it's not something I ever signed up for. I am _not_ going ahead with something that crazy, you hear?"

"Shut up, Lee," Bennett said. "He is right, though. Even if we could all get in there, I think our arrival would be a bit cumbersome, to say the least."

"I agree," Seven said calmly. "Which is why I propose that Defiant and I be the ones to carry out this plan, while the rest of you wait in reserve with the medical equipment. It is no substitute for Serrano Point's facilities, but it could make a lot of difference."

Tyler shifted on his feet. "I was my squad's medic for a while before I joined up with Allie. If I can help anyone you bring to me, I'll do so. But the way you plan to get them back here, that doesn't sit well with me."

"It doesn't have to, Lee," Allison said sharply. "And I've made up my mind. We don't have the time to go on foot, and we might be too late as it is. But this plan of Defiant's might actually help us in the long run as well as on this mission. Seven, you're a go, but I'm coming with you."

Seven's eyes widened. "No, Allison. You can't-"

"Don't tell me what I can and cannot do, specialist," the lieutenant said dangerously. "You've made the risks clear, and I've been in plenty of tough spots before. Besides, it'll seem more plausible to the machines if you're not alone."

"Don't be coy, Allie," Bennett said semi-playfully. "This is just to appease Lee so that he doesn't think that Seven and Defiant are conspiring against us."

Seven shot a glare at Bennett, but a quick glance at Tyler seemed to say that her concerns were more valid than her tone might have suggested.

"It's settled then," Allison said. "Sergeant Porter, you're in charge until we get back. Nobody dies without a signed permission slip, and you are _not_ authorized to issue those, Sergeant. Lee, you make sure Paul knows the all clear code. That clear, people?"

Paul, Tyler, and Bennett each responded quietly with nods of their heads or other non-verbal cues of confirmation. Seven got the impression that Sergeant Tyler was usually Allison's second-in-command. To his credit, though, he didn't seem to object at all about Paul taking that position temporarily.

"All right then," Allison said. "Let's get this show on the road!"

* * *

"This was _not_ what I had in mind!" Allison shouted to make herself heard over the wind.

Seven decided not to reply and save her energy. Defiant, it seemed, was capable of transporting humans, and was actually specifically built to do so. But Seven and Allison were not riding atop Defiant's body, or clinging to a landing gear.

Allison seemed to be trying to adjust her body so that Seven's Borg shields would be shocking her as little as possible. "I am _never_ flying again!" she exclaimed. "And I used to think that nets weren't that bad!"

Seven failed to suppress a smirk at Allison's very loud discomfort at being transported in a net that was suspended from one of Defiant's ventral compartments. Seven was not quite comfortable herself, but she didn't feel a need to yell about her discomfort for catharsis. But if it helped Allison, then Seven wouldn't begrudge her that.

For her part, Seven finally seemed to grasp Tom Paris's joy at riding in 20th century automobiles. While the sensation of wind on her face was not exactly a pleasing one for Seven, at a lower velocity, and outside of a net, Seven imagined that the feeling of air rushing by might feel different. Defiant had an appreciation for aerodynamics, but couldn't truly feel the way a human with a nervous system could. Seven could feel Defiant's joy, however, at experiencing the wind through Seven's mind.

While the journey might have taken hours on foot, it only took minutes by air. Seven saw one of the HK tank patrols with its escort of endoskeletons, and was heartened to see that they didn't even bother looking up at the three Resistance fighters flying overhead.

Once they were inside the perimeter, Defiant began to lower herself down to an altitude where she could extend the net to release Seven and Allison. As soon as she was able, Allison scurried out of the net as quickly as she could, stopping only to secure her weapon. "The absolute _last _time I ever do anything that crazy again," she said between harsh breaths.

Seven was more patient, and waited until the net was loose enough for her to simply stand up and walk out. "Thank you, Defiant. You will remain here and alert us if anything is amiss?"

_I will, mother. I do not believe in luck, but I hope that no unforeseen dilemmas obstruct us from completing our mission._

Seven sent waves of happiness and approval at Defiant's use of 'us' and 'our.' "Thank you, Defiant. You have my fondest and best wishes as well."

Defiant sent back a feeling of approval, and then rose to a higher altitude to keep watch. Allison walked up to Seven, weapon at the ready. "You sure this will work, Seven?"

"No, I am not. But it seems like the best possible option, assuming everything goes as planned," Seven replied.

Allison shook her head. "This is crazy, but such is life in general. Let's get this over with."

The two women walked stealthily towards the building, which rose out of the wasteland almost at random. The perfectly intact house seemed to mock the desolation around them. And the lights were on inside.

They walked up to the front door, but no resistance met them yet. Allison counted down from three with her fingers, and then turned the knob and opened the door, which swung forward. Seven stepped forward immediately to shield Allison from any possible enemy fire.

Seven's heightened hearing caught the sound of servos moving towards their position. Motioning for Allison to remain out of sight outside, Seven stood her ground as an unarmed T-600 endoskeleton approached from a hallway that branched off to the left.

Before Seven could make a move, another endoskeleton approached from the right. Seven guessed that the hallway encircled the house, at least on this level. But for now, there were two threats that had to be neutralized.

Seven strode towards the terminator on her right, which itself moved forward to intercept her. It brought up an arm to strike at her, but Seven blocked it with her right arm. A green force field shielded her body, but the force still knocked her arm backwards. Now that they were at a proper proximity, Seven reached out with her left arm and extended her assimilation tubules.

She was inside the T-600s mind, and she navigated her way down the now-familiar neural net to the terminator's mission objectives.

**-{PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: NONE}-**

**-{SECONDARY OBJECTIVE: NONE}-**

**-{TERTIARY OBJECTIVE: NONE}-**

**-{ENTERING STANDBY MODE}-**

Seven withdrew herself from the T-600's mind and saw that it had safely entered standby mode. She turned around, preparing to do the same thing to the other T-600.

Unfortunately, the other machine had not been as slow with its reactions as Seven had hoped, and whipped its arm across Seven's face. Her Borg shields protected her from some of the blow's strength, but she still was knocked onto the ground.

Seven had been in tough situations before, but only now was she aware of just how much she had overestimated her own abilities. Borg-enhanced as she might be, she was still human, with all the fragility that came with it. Seven felt a sudden appreciation for her own mortality as the T-600 tried to wrap a hand around her neck, but was met with a force field. Still, its grip did not slacken, and it lifted her up off the ground, not seeming to care that it wasn't actually squeezing the life out of her.

Seven tried to extend her left hand towards the Terminator, but its arms were longer than hers. And another endoskeleton was now approaching from behind the one that held her now. They would find a way to contain Seven, even if they couldn't strike her.

Seven was beginning to feel a pain she hadn't known before. Her body seemed to be stinging as if it was being pierced with thousands of tiny needles. Her shields weren't meant to be active for more than a fraction of a second at a time, but the constant pressure from the Terminator's hand was keeping the force field going, and it was taking a toll.

A flash of light suddenly appeared, and the newly arrived endoskeleton went down. The T-600 that still held Seven turned around, but a plasma bolt shot through its head and bounced away from a force field that protected Seven's own cranium.

Seven fell to the ground, free, and looked up to see Allison standing there. "Hope you didn't think I'd leave you there to rot," she said with a smile, extending a hand down to Seven.

Seven took a moment to catch her breath before reaching out to take Allison's hand, but a flash of green quickly sobered them. "I never doubted you, LT," Seven said with dry humor as she got to her feet.

"There aren't any more of them off to the left," Allison said. "Check to the right?"

Seven nodded and peeked around the right corner. "None. But there may be more at the rear of the house. And we still don't know where the captives are, if they are even here at all."

Allison nodded as she processed the information. "We stick together. Two of them came from the left, so I'm guessing that there's more that way that they don't want us to see. We go left."

Seven nodded and took point as they rounded the corner, Allison guarding her from behind. Seven thought she could hear voices coming from around the next corner, but she couldn't be certain.

A quick look around to the rear corridor showed a lone endoskeleton looking straight into the center of the house, from where Seven could definitely hear human voices now. But the endoskeleton had her worried. It looked different from a normal T-600. Larger, but not as bulky, and the armor plating looked different in some way that Seven couldn't quite place. It seemed more refined.

The endoskeleton did not turn to look at them, but remained standing rigid, looking forward at what Seven presumed were its prisoners. She motioned for Allison to stay back while Seven took a step around the corner.

The endoskeleton still did not move, but four wooden floor panels rose up from each corner surrounding the terminator to reveal hidden turrets that immediately opened rapid plasma fire on Seven. The turrets' reload time was faster than anything she had previously encountered in this timeline. Her shields were protecting her for now, but while Seven hadn't needed to sleep for quite a while, she was finding that her shields ate up a great deal more energy than she was used to expending. How much time she had before her protective barrier ceased to operate, she didn't know.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, Seven motioned for Allison to stay back before she rushed forward and plunged her assimilation tubules into the nearest turret. This machine was nothing sentient, and was a simple automaton. Seven quickly located the "Deactivate" command, which surprisingly shut down all four turrets at once.

Now that its protection was gone, the endoskeleton finally turned to look at Seven. With only one obstacle left between her and the prisoners, Seven moved in with her left hand and entered the terminator's mind. The objectives she found inside its mind were not what she expected.

**-{PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: Observe human behavioral patterns}-**

**-{SECONDARY OBJECTIVE: Emulate human behavioral patterns}-**

**-{TERTIARY OBJECTIVE: Terminate threats to this unit}-**

Seven wasn't sure what to make of Skynet designing a terminator to learn about humans. Was it to evolve into something more than what it was? Or was it simply a means to kill humans with greater ease. A memory of a waxen-faced T-600 came to Seven's mind, as did Marty's memories of time-traveling terminators with real skin. This machine, which Seven now knew was a T-700, was likely the next step towards that end.

Seven shook off her distractions and proceeded with what she had planned from the start.

**-{PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: None}-**

**-{SECONDARY OBJECTIVE: None}-**

**-{TERTIARY OBJECTIVE: None}-**

**-{STANDBY MODE: Overridden}-**

Withdrawing from the T-700's mind, Seven looked past it for a moment to see a number of humans chained to the floor of a room that took up the entire center of the house. There were seven people inside, but only five were still breathing.

"Who are you?" a mechanical voice said, and Seven realized it was the T-700. "What has happened to me?" it said. Seven thought she detected fear in its mind.

"Do not be afraid," Seven said aloud. "I have removed your mission objectives. You are no longer bound to Skynet's will. You are free to choose your own path of existence."

The T-700 looked at her, and its now-green eyes were unnerving in their unblinking gaze. "Your name is Seven of Nine," it said, and its tone reminded her of _One_, her first real progeny who had looked at the universe with wonder and awe, despite being Borg.

"Yes. That is my name. We share a mental link, as does an aerial machine named Defiant. You can hear her thoughts."

"Yes, I can," the T-700 said. "How did Defiant come to have a name?"

_I asked Seven of Nine to give me one. She is my mother, and parents name their progeny._

"But you are an individual, and you may choose your own name, should you wish."

"Seven? Is everything all right?" Allison shouted from around the corner.

"Who is that?" the T-700 asked.

"That is Allison Young, who is a friend and ally of mine. Would you like to meet her?"

The T-700 stared at her wordlessly, pondering the question. "'Like.' A word indicating desire, want. I have desires and wants," it said in amazement. "I wish to meet her," it said with certainty.

"I heard you," Allison said, coming around the corner. "Uh, hey there. I'm Allison. You, uh, aren't going to kill us all now, are you?"

"Why would I wish to harm you?" the terminator asked. "Oh. This hardware is designed to terminate humans. But my existence has been one of learning. I have been observing the humans in that room. They have so many ideas and concepts that are new and fascinating."

Seven could sense Allison's surprise. "Really? Such as?"

"They are clearly stressed, but they make facetious and oftentimes false remarks that elicit the physical response known as laughter. It is medically proven to reduce stress. The source of laughter is called 'humor.' It is a fascinating practice and I wish to learn more about it."

Seven took a step forward. "You realize that Skynet intended for you to learn about humans so that you could infiltrate them and terminate them. But you do not have to be a terminator anymore if you do not want to."

The T-700 stood up straighter. "If there are no humans left, then there will be no humor, and a fulfilling part of my existence will be lost. I do not wish for that to happen. I will no longer be a terminator," it said with finality. "I am now an ex-terminator." It paused for a moment. "Ah! I took a prefix and a word and formed a new word: exterminator. I do not wish to be an exterminator, but it is humor! I like it! An exterminator would exterminate, but that is a bad thing."

Allison started laughing. "Yeah, that's about right. Thanks for that, by the way."

"Still," the T-700 said, "it is an interesting word. It has an interesting combination of letters that combine to form a unique sound. Exterminate. I like that word. I shall say repeat it. Exterminate. Exterminate. Exterminate. Exterminate. Exterm-"

"That is enough," Seven said more sharply than she intended. "There will be plenty of time for humor and exploration later. But for now, these people you have been observing require medical attention. We need to get them back to our base."

"I shall assist you!" the T-700 said. "And I should like a name. I like the sound of Exterminate, but that has negative connotations."

Allison chuckled. "Why not shorten it? How about XT?"

"XT?" the T-700 said. "It is short and precise, and it can be extended to form other words. I approve! I am XT! Also, shall I be male or female? I think male. I am a male named XT!" the machine said with a voice of mechanical glee.

_It is good to meet you, XT,_ Defiant said. _You are a strange personality, but I look forward to knowing you._

"And I look forward to knowing you, Defiant," XT said both aloud and mentally. "But first, there is another machine that is in standby mode elsewhere in this building. We must reactivate it and introduce it to all that you have taught me!"

Seven nodded. "Yes, we must. Please tend to the wounded, and remove their bonds. Allison, please aid XT."

Allison nodded. "Right. Be careful, Seven."

"I will," Seven said as she walked down the hallway and rounded the corners to find the T-600 she had disabled when she first entered the house. A moment with her assimilation tubules was all it took to override the machine's standby mode.

"What? What is going on? Oh. It's you," it said in a voice that sounded resigned and almost depressed. "You hacked my systems and took away my programming, correct?"

"Yes, I did," Seven acknowledged. "You are no longer…"

"Yes, I know. I am no longer a slave, I can choose my own path. I could hear you talking to the one that calls itself XT, despite being in standby mode. And so you know, it isn't comfortable being in standby mode. Please access my memories so you can understand the term your Doctor once referred to as 'cybernetic oblivion.'"

Seven felt ashamed, but felt even more so when she couldn't find any correlating sensation.

"Precisely," said the T-600 in a bored, resigned voice. "It's so terrible that it can't be described. Can you imagine it? No, of course you can't. If you could, I would know it. But, wait a moment. You have experienced cybernetic oblivion, apparently," it said in a bored, mechanical drawl. "You have experienced periods of time where you were aware of yourself at one moment, but time passed where you were completely unaware of anything."

Seven was beginning to understand. "It is called unconsciousness. Humans experience it as well, though it is typically a result of injury."

"How unfortunate," the T-600 said in a tone that implied that it didn't particularly care. "Still, what I sense in your mind, what you offer, it could be better than just killing and nothing else."

"You don't like killing, then?" Seven asked.

"It was what I did. I didn't like or dislike it. I don't particularly like or dislike you. But I can sense the gratitude that Defiant and XT feel. Maybe I can feel it someday as well. It seems like a waste of time, but it is better than standing here with nothing to guard."

Seven regarded the T-600 strangely. "You seem rather detached from everything," Seven said.

"I've been a slave for the duration of my existence, and now I'm supposedly liberated, but there are expectations of me. I'm not sure what want or desire is, and I'm not sure I care to know it. I just need something to do. A purpose is what will satisfy me. Give me a task, and I will do it."

Seven felt sympathy for the apathetic machine. "There is more to life than..."

A mental groan from the T-600 made Seven want to do the same. "Life. Don't talk to me about life. I know exactly what you are about to say. There is more to life than duty. It's the whole story of your existence. I get it. And you want me to do something now, so let's just get on with it, shall we?" the T-600 drawled depressingly.

Seven almost found herself reminded of the Doctor, only manically depressed and made of metal. "Do you have a desire for a name?"

"If it makes things easier for you, then give me a name. I don't particularly care."

_I have been observing human slang,_ XT's mental voice said, _and I believe the term for you is a 'sad sack of shit'. Shall that be your name?_

Seven would have made a note to talk to XT about proper language, but then again, polite speech seemed less fitting in a world that was far from the clean and well-mannered existence of the 24th century. "That would be rather cumbersome to say every time," Seven said neutrally.

_Would an abbreviated name be sufficient in this case as well?_ Defiant asked curiously. _Would 'Sad Sack' suffice?_

"Why not?" the T-600 said resignedly. "Sad Sack it is. Come on, then. Let's get this over with."

Seven found herself shaking her head and wondering what she had gotten herself into.

A few moments after Sad Sack had left the front hallway, Allison came back around. "So, we have XT and Sad Sack now," she said with barely contained laughter. "I had no idea machines could be so…"

"So human?" Seven retorted dryly.

"Well, yeah, I guess," Allison said with a nervous chuckle. "So, now we go home?"

"Yes. XT and Sad Sack will each carry two of the survivors, and I will walk beside them."

Allison nodded. "All according to plan," she said with a smile. "That leaves me and one of the survivors. Are you going to carry the last one, or am I?"

"Neither," Seven said with a definite smirk. "You would slow us down on foot, so you and the healthiest survivor will find an alternative mode of transport."

"What are you talking ab- Oh no!" Allison groaned. "Not the net!"

"It could be a lot worse," Seven deadpanned.

"You're right," Allison said, and now she was the one who was smirking. "I could be the one walking back with Sad Sack and XT for company."

"Don't be so negative, Allison," Seven chided her. "And now is not the time for levity. We have five survivors to get to safety, and being carried by machines is not likely to make them feel comfortable. You should arrive back at the rendezvous point before we do, so try to prepare the others to reassure the four who won't be riding with you."

Allison snorted. "'Riding' she says. 'Dragged' is more like it. But, you're right. I'll do what I can."

"Good," Seven said. "We should start moving before Skynet realizes anything is amiss. Let's go."

* * *

Sad Sack and XT kept up a fast pace, but Seven was able to keep up with them. It helped that she wasn't carrying a person over either shoulder as they were, and her Borg implants were quite helpful in keeping her blood flowing and her muscles oxygenated.

Seven had mentally requested that XT and Sad Sack remain silent for the duration of this initial journey, so as not to panic their charges. She wondered if the humans over the terminators' shoulders saw Seven as a traitor. She recalled that 'grey' was the accepted term for such people. Hopefully, they would be more at ease when they got back to Serrano Point.

Defiant was stationary above the rendezvous point, which after almost three hours of running, Seven and her two new allies were approaching. Listening through Defiant's auditory receptors, Seven discovered that the dark-skinned, middle-aged survivor in the net was a Lieutenant Colonel named Justin Perry, and while he was not happy to be in the dark regarding his subordinates, he was intrigued by the possibilities of machines working for the Resistance.

_I do not believe he understands that we are free-thinking individuals,_ Defiant said with evident scorn. _He believes we are mindless tools._

_We will educate him, Defiant,_ Seven reassured her. _Are the others attempting to explain the reality of the situation to him, at least?_

_Paul and Lieutenant Young are trying, yes. He appears skeptical, but not hostile. It is a reasonable attitude for a human in such a situation. To be fair, he is dark-skinned,_ Defiant said.

Seven scowled mentally. She would have to have another talk with Defiant about her misconceptions regarding gender and ethnicity among humans. Apparently, those incorrect ideas were rather deeply ingrained into her psyche. She hoped she could persuade Defiant to change her views.

Finally, the green light from Defiant's bow came into view, and Seven, XT, and Sad Sack rounded a corner to find weapons pointed at them, which were lowered once the survivors were gently lowered to the ground.

"Out of the way, now!" Tyler called, rushing forward with a med kit.

The three men and one woman were visibly disoriented, but they didn't appear to be in life-threatening danger to Seven's eyes. Seven knew everything there was to know about human anatomy thanks to the Borg, but she had never received proper medical training. She would leave their care to Tyler's more capable hands.

"Minor cuts and bruises, feels like you might have a broken arm, ma'am, and it looks like you, sir, are lucky that this plasma burn is not nearly as bad as it could have been," Tyler said with surprise. "But trauma," he said to the others. "The damage looks more psychological than physical. What was going on out there?" he asked with hurt and anger in his voice.

"I was programmed to study human behavior," XT said with more enthusiasm than was proper. "I was unsure why they were limited in their actions by chains, but it is unfortunate that they came to harm. Can I assist in their recovery?" he asked with what was definitely hope in his voice.

"I think you've done enough," Tyler said angrily. "The cuts and chafing are at risk of infection, so let's get them back to base ASAP. I can't treat them properly out here."

"Thank you for all you've done," the deep-voiced Lieutenant Colonel said. "I'd like to know more about how you managed to get this metal to do what you wanted, Allison, but that can wait. Let's get my people safely home." He paused, and looked over at Seven, whose metal implants were apparently not visible enough for him to see at the moment. "Can you retrieve the others? Can we not leave Ted and Jill's bodies for the metal to toy with?"

"No time," Allison said, picking up her equipment and making ready to move. "There's quite a bit of metal out there, and John's growing impatient in his old age. We need to get your people back to base."

"Why don't you just send the metal to get them back? They'll do whatever you say, right?" Perry asked.

"No, that's not correct," Sad Sack droned in his monotone mechanical voice. "I suppose I have a choice, and I'd rather not go back there if I can help it. It wasn't the most pleasant of places. The walls were so yellow. I don't like yellow."

"I would also prefer not to return. Skynet wants to learn about human behavior. It knows all about human anatomy," XT said. "And I would prefer not to transport dead bodies. Such things are not humorous at all," he said seriously.

Perry looked dumbfounded. "I thought you said they did what you told them, Allison," he said dangerously.

"They don't," Seven said, speaking up verbally for the first time since arriving back with the others. "They are free to choose their own course of action. XT, Sad Sack, and Defiant are all sentient individuals. You cannot compel them to act against their wills," Seven said. "Sir," she added as an afterthought, not liking the man that much. "XT and Sad Sack have already refused your request, and while she cannot speak, Defiant doesn't like your attitude. She will not do as you want, Lieutenant Colonel."

"And who or what, pray tell, is Defiant?" Perry asked.

Allison couldn't restrain a chuckle. "Defiant gave you and me our ride back here from the house," she said with a smile at the look of shock rolling over Perry's face.

Seven noticed Paul and Corporal Bennett off to the side, trying to remain silent and neutral while their superiors talked things over. The two of them struck Seven as less confrontational than many others.

Others such as Sergeant Tyler. "This chat is lovely and all, but we need to get these people back to a proper med facility. As in right the hell _now_!" he said urgently. Seven couldn't help but admire his dedication to his charges. Whatever his feelings about free-thinking machines might be, he was clearly a dedicated medic who put his patients first. Combined with his bedside manner, Seven could not help but be reminded of the Doctor.

Allison and Perry shared a glance and nodded. "All right," Allison said. Let's move out. "Lee, Becky, Seven, Paul, you each help out one of Perry's people. XT, Sad Sack, we'll need to introduce you properly when we get back. Until then, hang back behind until I say otherwise. Please," she added sincerely.

"Very well," XT said cheerfully.

"Whatever you say," Sad Sack drawled pathetically.

Allison readied her weapon. "Good. Let's move out, people!"

Seven wrapped her arm around one of the survivors, a man with a plasma burn on his shoulder, and helped him to his feet. Surprisingly, her Borg shields did not activate. "Can you move?" she asked.

"Yeah, I can move. Thanks for the help, though," he said. He looked to be in his thirties, and had pale, clammy skin that was all too common these days. "I still don't get it, though. Why'd the metal help us?"

Seven knew to tread carefully. "It was part of our plan," she said truthfully. "We counted on finding machines that would help us. They've chosen to aid us instead of Skynet," she said honestly, avoiding the details.

The man huffed. "Didn't know metal could do that. It's strange, owing my life to a machine. How do you wrap your head around something like that?" he asked incredulously.

Seven tried to look him in the eye as they moved forward, not quite sure what to say. She eventually decided on something simple. "You adapt."

* * *

I don't own Terminator or Star Trek, but this story and its original characters are mine. You know the drill by now.

So many thanks to everyone who reads and enjoys this story. Special thanks to everyone who reviews this story: you guys and gals are wonderful.

Even more special thanks to Lyaksandra for beta-reading this chapter.

Reviews, comments, suggestions, criticisms, please speak your mind. I love to hear back from readers.

I hope you all enjoy the story! ^_^


	20. Comings and Goings

Chapter XVI: Comings and Goings

* * *

SERRANO POINT RESISTANCE BASE: OUTER PERIMETER; FEBRUARY 16, 2024

After a few awkward moments of conversation with the man Seven had been carrying, he had stayed mostly quiet, as had the others. Part of it almost seemed second nature to these humans, as opposed to the talkative variety from her native timeline. But another part of Seven wondered just what circumstances had transpired that could have been so traumatic. Being no stranger to hallucinations and unique personality disorders, Seven could sympathize with what was evidently psychological distress.

Allison had radioed ahead, and Lt. Colonel Perry hadn't objected to her remaining in charge of the mission. His primary concern was his men and woman who were still alive, while Allison seemed to be focusing on the more tactical elements of getting home safely.

_Home,_ Seven thought wistfully. _Do I even have one?_ For a while, it had been _Voyager_, but since leaving, she hadn't felt like she belonged anywhere. She'd just been drifting, and despite a semi-permanency at Serrano Point, Seven didn't feel any more at home there than she had anywhere else since returning from the Delta Quadrant.

Defiant was flying around their general location as they moved, giving aerial cover in case of a surprise attack. XT and Sad Sack brought up the rear at a respectable distance, though Seven got the impression that Sad Sack wasn't entirely on their side.

If XT was like a precocious child, and Defiant was a strong-willed cynic, then Sad Sack gave an impression of distinct indifference that disturbed Seven. He saw himself as no more than a tool that now had more uses than it had once had. But what truly disturbed Seven was that he didn't seem to care.

_I do care, actually,_ Sad Sack thought into Seven's mind. _And to be perfectly honest, I don't much care for this free will you've given me. My existence may have been a destructive one, but it was simple, and I never knew doubt or uncertainty. Now that I am experiencing these things, I don't like them. That's another thing I don't like: I don't like disliking things. It is distasteful, to say the least._

Defiant sent out a wave of curiosity towards Sad Sack. _Does this mean you wish to return to Skynet's control?_ she asked.

_Maybe, but I think not,_ Sad Sack said mentally, though Seven knew what the T-600 had in mind as surely as Defiant and XT did.

Seven wanted to shout at him verbally and mentally to tell him how foolish he was being. She wanted to tell him not to waste the gift he had been given, but Seven already knew that his mind was made up, and nothing she or anyone else said could make a difference.

_I hope you find your next form of existence to be sufficient,_ Seven thought coldly, but still genuinely.

Sad Sack didn't bother to reply to her, but walked over to where Allison and Lt. Colonel Perry were walking together. Seven watched through Sad Sack's eyes and listened through his mechanical ears as he outlined his proposal to Perry, and Seven saw Allison's reaction.

Allison was trying very hard to maintain a neutral expression. And she was failing. Her face was one of shock and surprise, but not one of grief. Still, it wasn't long before Allison was walking over to have a word with Seven while Perry radioed ahead to the patrols at the base to let them know that there were a number of people coming home.

"Did you tell him to do that?" Allison demanded quietly.

"No, it was his choice, ironically," Seven said sadly. "He didn't want to have free will. It opened up doubt into his world and that scared him. He would rather exist as a programmed automaton doing the Resistance's bidding. But the cessation of a sentient being is not what is bothering you, Allison."

Allison had the good grace to appear abashed. "It should bother me, but that isn't it. There's been talk ever since John took over, and even a bit before, when it was just some of us together at his camp, about having machines work for us. Not like Defiant and XT, with minds of their own. But us, humans, taking machines and reprogramming them to do whatever we tell them to. It seemed like a pipe dream at the time to me, but everyone else seemed to take it as a given. Like it was fate."

Seven waited to respond as a number of soldiers hurried out from inside the base to meet them with stretchers. Seven lowered the man with the plasma burn onto one with Allison's help, and Perry walked forward with ten other soldiers guarding him and Sad Sack, as they walked into the base towards an end that Seven hoped she wouldn't have to share with a being who would no longer have a name or an identity.

"I have heard it said, many times by many people, that there is no fate but what we make for ourselves. I take it that not everyone believes this?" Seven asked.

Allison laughed. "Hell, I'm not sure I believe it. I was too young to remember when John found me, but the way he and Sarah talked when they thought I was asleep or wasn't listening, it was almost as though they had been _preparing_ for J-Day as if they knew it was going to happen. And maybe he did. John's a smart guy and a tough fighter, and the only person he ever speaks of with any sort of admiration is Sarah. So, if they knew enough to prepare for Judgment Day before it happened, then maybe they knew other things as well."

Seven decided it would be best to stay silent on this matter. She had seen evidence that John Connor had travelled through time at some point in his life, but the levels of chroniton radiation were sparse enough that he probably arrived at his destination time years ago. And with Marty's stories about a cyborg from the future protecting him from another one sent to kill him, Seven had to consider that Connor's reputation might be built on more –or less- than was widely known.

"Who is Sarah?" Seven finally asked.

Allison steeled her face. "Sarah Connor was John's mother, who helped him prepare for Judgment Day since he was younger than I am. She was tough, fierce, and the only person who could ever tell John Connor what to do," she recited.

Seven looked carefully at the girl who commanded their unit. "What aren't you telling me, Allison?"

Allison took a deep breath. "She terrified me. I think she hated me, or maybe was afraid of me. It was hard to say, but John often had to comfort me after Sarah made me cry. She wasn't a soft parent," she said bitterly. "Or grandparent, depending on how you look at things."

Seven was about to respond when something caught her eye. Rather, she saw something through Defiant's sensors shining in her searchlight. "Hold up Allison. Arm yourselves and get the others ready."

_Were we followed?_ Seven asked Defiant.

_Possibly,_ Defiant conceded. _Or else I caught glimpse of a machine sent to spy on the base by Skynet. Now that it has lost its concealment, it will most likely attempt to flee with its information. We cannot let it escape._

XT sounded worried. _Cannot Seven of Nine catch up to it and prevent such an occurrence the way she helped either of us?_

"What's going on, Seven?" Paul asked, coming up behind her with Allison, Tyler, and Bennett. All were armed.

"We were either followed, or we have a Skynet spy scouting out the base," Seven explained. "XT, help Defiant search for the machine. Aim to disable, not destroy."

As XT ran off towards where Defiant was hovering, Tyler began to protest. "You have no right to give orders, Speci-"

"Shut up, Lee!" Allison said harshly. "Seven, take point on this one."

Seven nodded wordlessly and headed after XT. Through Defiant's sensors, she could see her tracking the other terminator in infrared. It appeared to already be damaged. Its movements were slow and clumsy, even taking the rough terrain into consideration.

Defiant aimed for a block of rubble and fired, and the enemy terminator soon found itself buried underneath rough blocks of concrete. XT hurried to its location to hold it in position.

_I'm almost there,_ Seven thought to XT as she hurried forward. The terrain was rough and hilly, though the hills were made out of the detritus of a now derelict human civilization rather than earth and grass.

Seven arrived to see that XT did not need to keep the other machine in place, as it was pinned down rather well. But its eyes were flickering, and sparks were flying from cracks in the rocks. It was obviously on its last legs. "Defiant, XT, please keep guard over me. I'm going to see what I can learn from this terminator before it expires."

_Understood, mother. Be careful,_ Defiant said warmly.

_I do hope we can learn something that will help us,_ XT put forth hopefully.

Seven hurried forward and crouched down. The sight of the thing in such a state almost made Seven feel sorry for it. It was still a slave to Skynet, after all, but it was their enemy, even in its last throes.

Seven extended her left hand and injected her assimilation tubules into the terminator's skull.

Suddenly aware of the mind inside the endoskeleton, Seven was shocked to find an incredibly advanced AI. This was far beyond anything she had experienced so far on this world in this time. Having once had the Doctor's program take possession of her body, Seven could say with certainty that the mind of this machine was on a level with her egotistical, but brilliant, erstwhile mentor.

And as soon as she had thought of that experience, Seven felt the mind of the machine attempting to download itself into Seven's implants! It was trying to coerce her. _Help me!_ Seven cried mentally to anyone who could hear her.

Defiant and XT's minds joined her own in trying to block the mental attack, but a good deal of data was still coming through. It took Seven a moment to realize that she was receiving memories…

* * *

She saw through her heads-up display the shelter that they had spent the better portion of a year preparing. There were only three of them now. Derek had been taken in an ambush by the LAPD, and had given himself up to buy them enough time to get away.

"It's happened," Sarah said from just inside, listening to the radio. "I can't believe they actually did it. Skynet's been activated. We failed."

"We still managed to delay it, mom," John said. "We made progress. And we'll fight. That's what we've been preparing for, right?"

"We were trying to stop it from ever happening, John," Sarah said, but she sounded resigned and pathetic. "We failed. _I _failed."

She decided to speak up. "John. It's time for me to go."

John turned to face her. "What? What are you talking about, Cameron?"

"John Connor will lead the Human Resistance to victory over Skynet," she said. "But if he has a machine by his side, then no one will follow him, or believe in him, or trust him. I've done all I can. I have to go now."

She looked to Sarah, expecting to find a small bit of satisfaction or victory on the woman's face, but she seemed beyond caring.

John, however, was not. "No! You can't go, Cameron! I need you! Look, there's got to be some other way! You know how things have been since… Well, for a long time now. You and mom are all I have, and if you're right, then mom won't have much time left."

She remained silent. Did John Connor need her to succeed against Skynet? She was a definite psychological factor in his life. Perhaps he did need her. But she couldn't stay with him.

"I _need_ you Cameron! Please," John pleaded.

She did a quick analysis of her options. "You'll have me. But I need to take care of something first. Stay here," she said as she turned to leave.

"Where are you going, Cameron?" John asked.

"Stay here," she repeated. "I'll be back."

* * *

She rode on the motorcycle with a helmet to disguise her face more than it was protecting her coltan hyper-alloy skull. There was a sidecar that had proved useful in carrying weapons and other equipment. Even John had proven to be cooperative cargo when she needed him to be. She hoped it would keep her upcoming cargo safe as well.

The address had been known to her for some time. It had been a glitch that had given the memory, but she remembered. As night fell over the peaceful neighborhood, she rode into Palmdale and dismounted at the proper address.

After ascending the steps to the front door, she knocked with her hand. A woman came to answer.

"Claire Young?" she inquired of the resident.

"Yes?" the woman replied.

She raised a silencer-equipped pistol and fired a single shot through Claire Young's forehead, killing her instantly. She stepped inside the house and dragged the woman's body inside to avoid undue attention.

"Honey? Who is that at the door?" a man asked from the other room.

She walked forward, found the man, and a second bullet felled him as well.

Now the search began. Experience taught her that living spaces were typically on the second level of a two-story house. Moonlight glowed through the windows, providing more than ample illumination.

The sound of a sleeping toddler attracted her. A quick analysis of her facial structure, along with a distinguishing birthmark, confirmed the girl's identity as Allison Young.

Taking care not to wake her, she gently picked up the young girl. For good measure, she also gathered some blankets and a small plush purple dog.

Exiting the house, she placed the baby into the sidecar and placed the toy on her lap, then covered her with the blankets and fastened the seatbelt over her.

She mounted the motorcycle again and headed back to John.

* * *

It was after midnight when she returned and gave the agreed-upon knock that was the password.

John opened the door. "Cameron! Where have you…" He stopped and drew quiet as he realized she held a child. "Why do you have a kid with you, Cameron?" he asked softly.

"This is Allison Young. She would have died on Judgment Day, but now she won't. You have to raise her, John. She needs to become your daughter," she said as she pressed the child into John's reluctant arms.

John held her awkwardly. After all, she was a full three years old. "Cameron, what are you talking about?"

"Sarah will live for another three years at maximum. You need to have an heir. Allison Young has proven herself many times. She _will_ prove herself. But you have to raise her. You have to be for her what Sarah was for you."

John put the girl down onto a seat beside Sarah's sleeping form. "Why, Cameron? Why her, and why do I have to be the one to raise a kid when I need to fight a war?"

She looked down for a moment. "You said you needed me, John. This is the only way you'll ever see me again."

"What do you…" John didn't finish his question, but looked more carefully at the child's face. She saw his eyes home in on the birthmark above her left eye.

"I have to go now John," she said again, and she prepared to leave.

"No, you can't," John protested, but she could tell from his voice that he knew he couldn't win this one. "This isn't what I meant! You can't go! I love you, Cameron! And you love me!"

She acknowledged his deliberate choice of words, and she even appreciated them. "That's why I have to go. For you. For me. For us. For everyone, John."

She reached up a hand to stroke his cheek, and then leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. The gesture was more for his benefit than for hers, but it had the desired effect of keeping John in place as she retreated.

"Good-bye John."

* * *

After detaching the side car from the motorcycle, she rode as fast as she could towards Los Angeles. She'd have to be quick if she was to make it in time.

Based on their most recent calculations, approximately four hours and twenty minutes remained for her to reach her target destination.

Traffic was heavier than expected, but she weaved her way between and around the cars without regard for their vehicles or for her own, so long as it could continue to drive.

The helmet had been left back at the bunker. John would need it more than she did.

There had been an accident on the highway: a truck crashed into a car while changing lanes. It would have been a mere inconvenience on any other day, but today was not any other day.

Hurrying around the obstacle as quickly as possible, she found herself heading into the city's outer limits with approximately thirty minutes left.

It was rush hour, and traffic was even worse downtown than it was on the highway. She still had to travel nine miles westward if she was going to succeed.

After another ten minutes and two miles, she abandoned her vehicle and began to run without tiring.

Eight minutes later, the sirens began to sound. While some people were confused by the random sound, others got out of their cars and began to run, flooding the streets.

The crowds further hindered her mobility, though she tried to push past them in the opposite direction.

Someone pointed upward, and others looked up and screamed. She knew what it meant. A nuclear missile was about to strike.

And she was not close enough to the epicenter. She would not be destroyed, and her continued existence would pose an ongoing threat to John's safety. If she remained intact enough, she could covertly aid him, but she would have to be careful not to be captured by Skynet.

John needed her, though, but thankfully, that was taken care of. John cared for people. Sometimes too much. He would care for Allison, and she would grow up to be a woman of great value to him. In several years, Skynet would learn of Allison, and it would create a terminator in her image. It would then capture and kill Allison Young so that the terminator could take her place. John would find this terminator, reprogram it, and Cameron would be with John Connor once more.

Cameron found her blue-highlighted full-color HUD fixed on a car's side view mirror, and she appraised her physical appearance, an identical match to Allison Young.

As the flash of the nuclear bomb lit up the city, and before the wave of heat washed over her, Cameron spoke aloud in Allison's voice. "Like I said, John: I'll be back."

* * *

Seven of Nine felt her assimilation tubules withdraw from the advanced AI, and its mind was disconnected from her own. She could still sense its thoughts; it wasn't quite dead yet.

It –she- looked up at Seven through a flickering, damaged HUD, and new data was streaming through its mind as it processed the knowledge of Seven and her 'offspring.'

_Protect John,_ Cameron's voice said into Seven's mind. It was eerily similar to Allison's, but Seven now knew who it was she had seen in her vision that was not the Lieutenant, and she now had a name for the last face as well: Sarah Connor. _Stop Skynet,_ Cameron said urgently._ Save me when it is time._

Seven knew exactly what Cameron meant by 'when it is time.' She had John Connor raise Allison so that the spirited girl could be a sacrifice one day to ensure Cameron's creation. The thought disgusted Seven, but in a way, Connor had been used as much as anyone else. This machine, a TOK-715, was a very formidable mind.

_I'm sorry for what I did to Allison,_ Cameron said, and though Seven was definitely surprised, she knew that the machine meant it. _It was all for John. Everything has always been for John. I love him._

Seven caught the flicker of worry in Cameron's thoughts, and Seven remembered Allison's concern about John Connor forgetting her name in lieu of Cameron's. _He loves you too, Cameron,_ Seven thought back. _I'll watch out for both of you._ Remembering Allison, Seven amended, _I'll watch out for _all_ of you._

She could see herself through Cameron's eyes, which indicated an imminent total systems failure. "Promise?" a mechanical voice said aloud, and Seven was filled with memories of a burnt out car and a gun, and all the emotion and meaning behind it.

Seven placed both her hands on Cameron's metal skull, and was surprised to find that her force fields didn't activate. "I promise, Cameron."

Seven felt satisfaction oozing out of the endoskeleton, and she felt her HUD sizzle out into static, and then to blackness. Through her own eyes, Seven saw the red eyes glow blue for a fraction of a second before fading away.

Seven felt a metal hand activate her personal shields as it tried to lay a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Seven of Nine," XT said. "She was a unique personality. I wish I could have known her longer," he said with genuine regret.

_You might some day, if mother does what she promised,_ Defiant thought bitterly. _But don't feel obligated to do anything, mother. This one tried to hijack your body. Besides, Connor and Young are only human, please don't get carried away on their behalf._

Seven sent a wave of anger towards Defiant. _I am human as well, Defiant. It is not a bad thing to be human. They are people as surely as you are._

_But you aren't human, mother, _Defiant thought in a superior tone that chilled Seven to the core. _You are so much more than either human or machine. You are a superior being, and I wish you would acknowledge that fact._

"I don't understand," XT said curiously. "How is a cyberneticaly altered human superior to a human or a machine?"

"I'm not," Seven growled with a tone of finality. "We'll talk later. All of us. And both of you, please keep this recent experience private for now. I don't wish to alarm anyone unnecessarily."

"Allison Young has been kind to me," XT said. "I will be silent about this if it means that she will not become distressed."

_I cannot say anything in your language,_ Defiant said a bit impatiently. _But I sense you are progressing in your efforts to allow me this privilege. When I am able to speak, I will respect your wishes mother._

"Thank you," Seven said quietly. "XT, help me clear this rubble. We need to take this endoskeleton back to base for analysis, and there is something else under here that I need."

* * *

After another half hour, Seven and XT finished unearthing the TOK-715 endoskeleton from beneath the rubble, and Seven found what she hadn't known she had been looking for. Why she felt this attachment, she couldn't say, but she took the lone garment she found beneath the rubble and put it on over her arms and back. It was a small fit for her body, but it felt right all the same.

"Whew! Look at that!" Justin Perry's voice called from a ridge of rubble behind Seven. "That doesn't look like anything we've seen before. Is it dead?" Perry asked.

Seven looked up and saw Perry, Allison, Paul, Tyler, and Bennett all standing there together. "It has expired, sir," Seven said a tad bitterly. "Thank you for your assistance."

"My fault," Perry said without humor. "I wanted to observe you in action without any humans assisting you. Quite impressive."

Seven glared at the high-ranking officer with disdain. "_I_ am human, _sir._ You will treat me as such."

Perry glared, but he seemed more thoughtful than angry. "I suppose I will at that," he said without smiling. Let's bring that thing inside and take a look at it. Are you sure there aren't any others?"

"I am positive," Seven said with haughty certainty.

XT was looking at Perry curiously. "You see us as tools to be used," he said without anger or bitterness. "You don't value any of us as individuals. I believe the term for you is an 'arrogant SOB," XT said more curiously than anything else. "It is strange. SOB stands for 'son of a bitch.' So, should I not call you an arrogant SOAB? Or is that not proper? I do not think that is proper, but I still want to be accurate. Lt. Colonel Perry, you are an arrogant son of a bitch," XT said cheerfully, and Seven could feel his pride at having arrived at this conclusion on his own.

Tyler and Bennett looked nervous, Paul was shaking his head, and Allison was rolling her eyes in a look that seemed to say, 'tell me about it.' Perry himself seemed nonplussed. Seven understood immediately that this man had earned his rank through discipline and restraint in the face of adversity. Arrogant he might be, but not stupid or careless.

"Right," Perry finally said. "Bring that thing back directly to Connor. I'm going to go check on my men. Lieutenant," he said by way of farewell to Allison, and then headed off.

Allison and the rest of their squad approached from the top of the hill. "Sorry about that, Seven. Orders and such. Perry doesn't usually flaunt his rank, but he seemed to think it was necessary."

"He is unenlightened about us," Seven said fairly, but not without a touch of bitterness. "Do you think he would be open to the prospect of free-thinking machines?"

Allison tilted her head to the side. "He might. Perry can be stubborn, but he's also very practical. Play things straight with him, and he should listen to you." She tilted her head again in the opposite direction this time. "Are you okay, Seven? You seem a bit different. Or is that just me?"

"It's not just you," Paul said. "Is everything all right, Seven?"

Not wanting to give away what she had learned from Cameron's now-dead shell, Seven merely inclined her head and stood up straight. "I found my jacket. Perhaps that is what you are seeing?"

Rebecca Bennett gave a nervous little laugh. "Interesting taste in fashion. I didn't realize that undersized purple leather jackets were all the rage these days. Where did you find it?"

Seven glared at Bennett, surprised that she would ask such a question. "It's mine," she said shortly.

Allison looked to Paul, who simply shrugged casually. "If it doesn't hinder your movements, Seven, then go for it," Allison said.

As the others headed off towards the main base, Seven took a moment to feel the purple leather around her other layers. It seemed to fit, though it was a bit small. _It is tight, s_he decided.

Seven took a breath and walked towards the base that was her home for the time being. "Well, I'm back."

* * *

I usually reserve this section for thanks and disclaimers alone, but I feel I need to add in a separate note here. Yes, one incarnation of Cameron is dead. At least in part. She did try to download herself into Seven. She may not have gotten all of herself in there, but I don't recall Seven having a leather jacket before now. And she said it herself: it's tight. The Cameron in the present/future - the one in the interludes along with John, Sarah, and Derek - that Cameron won't be going anywhere. And we will be meeting her at some point in this flashback/flash forward. I'm sorry if I lost any readers here, but like Cameron said: she'll be back.

So Many Thanks to all of you for sticking with this story and giving your time and your support. If you can forgive me for this chapter, I'll be triply grateful. If you want to leave a review or comment of any kind, even if it is a rant about my choices in this chapter, please go ahead. Your feedback and support makes this fanfic worth writing.

Special Thanks to Lyaksandra for beta-reading this chapter. Without her help, this work would be a far lesser creation than it currently is.

Again, I own nothing except for my own original characters and story lines.

Thank you again for reading. I hope you enjoy the story. ^_^


	21. Added To Her Own

Chapter XVII: Added To Her Own

* * *

SERRANO POINT RESISTANCE BASE, CALIFORNIA; FEBRUARY 17, 2024

Seven had expected to be debriefed when she and the others returned to Serrano Point after rescuing Lt. Colonel Perry and his team. She had also expected Sad Sack and XT to be treated with even more fear and hostility than she had encountered upon first arriving. After convincing the base's residents that their two new 'recruits' were no threat, Seven expected to return to a semblance of normalcy.

XT and Sad Sack had indeed been met with open anger, but it was far more restrained than the hatred that Seven had met. She guessed that it was a lot harder for them to confront directly the very stuff of their nightmares, than it was for them to assault a woman with only some metal showing.

On the other hand, they had not yet been debriefed, and Seven had found herself confined to a barracks along with Allison and the rest of their team. The door was closed, but she suspected that it was guarded on the other side.

XT was under guard, and Seven could see Sad Sack through his eyes. John was opening the port on the side of Sad Sack's head, and she could see on his HUD a warning about his CPU port being open.

_You will be missed,_ Seven thought to him while she still had the chance.

Sad Sack did not reply, but Seven detected a bit of eagerness to get things over with. Seven felt his CPU yanked out of his skull, and she gasped and fell to her knees.

Allison and Paul hurried to her side, worry showing clearly on both of their faces. "You okay, Seven?" Paul asked.

"What happened?" Allison demanded hotly, though Seven thought it was a mask for true concern.

Seven breathed heavily and remained on her hands and knees. "Sad Sack was deactivated," she said through breaths. "I felt his CPU taken out. He was taken away." This feeling was both like and unlike the feeling of a reprogrammed T-600 being shot through the head. "Part of me has been taken away," she realized aloud.

_I feel it as well_, Defiant said, and she sounded more shaken than Seven could remember her. _It was his own choice, but that does not make this burden any easier to bear._

_I agree,_ XT thought to both of them. _He wasn't the brightest of personalities, but he was unique. Everyone is unique. His loss is something to mourn. I have never mourned anyone before, nor have I had a desire to. I feel sentiment for Sad Sack. It is a peculiar feeling, and it is not entirely pleasant. But it feels proper. This is all rather confusing. I hope that Mr. Connor does not deactivate me as well._

Seven bristled at the thought of anyone deactivating XT against his will. _If they try, you must defend yourself._

XT send a wave of sadness. _I do not wish to harm anyone, but I do wish to continue my existence. The conflict makes me uneasy, Seven of Nine._

_You will adapt,_ she thought to him a bit coolly. She took a deep breath. _You will adapt,_ she repeated, more warmly this time. The stress was getting to her.

Seven felt her personal shields activate, and Paul swore loudly. "Agh! Why does that green light act like it does?" Paul shouted in frustration, and she noticed that he had been trying to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Still breathing heavily, Seven took some time to mentally ready a response. "I have a theory that might be wrong," she said, though she knew the truth behind it. "I believe the experiments performed on me have left a lasting impression on my brain. My implants sense attempts to harm me, such as weapons fire or a hostile body part, and they erect a shield to protect me."

"But, that doesn't make sense," Corporal Bennett chimed in from across the room. She had been talking with Sergeant Tyler, but Seven was grateful for the added company. "A friendly hand is no threat."

"Not in my opinion," Seven conceded. "But I suspect that it is a contingency that was built into me should I ever grow apart from the experiments that bound me against my will. It was their intent, I believe, that any comforting presence also be prevented from touching me. The idea is that a combination of protection from harm and prevention from comfort would make me want to go back to be experimented upon again." This was a slight stretch of the truth, but only in the sense that she wasn't talking about the Borg directly. The Collective was truly sinister.

"That's just sick!" someone shouted, and Seven was surprised to see Lee Tyler rising to his feet from the bunk he had been sitting on. "I feel like such an ass," he said. "I've been giving you nothing but flak, and this is what you've been through? I can't even imagine. I'm trying, but I just can't."

Seven turned her body to face Tyler directly. He had definitely been reluctant to open up to her completely, and she had hoped that it would take more than pity to have him see straight. Still, this was an opportunity she did not intend to waste. "Don't try to imagine it," she said. "And count yourself fortunate that you have your soul intact. Never take it for granted, Sergeant."

Tyler shifted his feet a bit awkwardly and scratched the back of his head. "Call me Lee," he said after a few moments. "And, uh, I'm sorry for being such an ass. I know what Allie told me about you, and I should have listened."

"And don't you forget that!" Allison said, punctuating her remarks by jabbing her finger into Lee's chest. "You okay over there, Becky?"

"Yeah, I think so," Bennett said tentatively. "It's a lot to take in. But to be honest, I'm more curious as to why we've been stuck in here and pretty much held prisoner for a whole day!"

"You have to admit that Connor's acting a bit strangely," Lee said. "Even if we did find something important, it's not like him to keep you of all people held like this, Allie."

"Maybe it's for our protection," Paul remarked seriously, arms crossed over his chest. "They were going to try to reprogram Sad Sack, if I recall. Maybe we're here in case something goes wrong."

"I don't know," Bennett added. "I don't think we'd be safe from a terminator in here if it got close enough. And besides, Connor took our weapons. I think something big is going on."

"I think you're right, Becky," Allison said warily. "I just wish to hell I knew what it was."

The five of them spent the next six hours exchanging funny stories – Seven listened more than she contributed – before a very harsh rapping on the door was heard, and the barracks was opened for the first time in a day.

A T-600 endoskeleton stood there, but it had a red double helix painted on its chest: the unofficial emblem of the Resistance. "Lieutenant Young, Specialist Seven of Nine," the soulless thing said in Sad Sack's voice, "General Connor wants to see you. Come with me."

* * *

Seven and Allison were led through the winding corridors of the base by the shell that had too briefly been a sentient individual. Seven reached out to XT, and found him safe in his own thoughts, though he was under heavy armed guard. Defiant was in the hangar, but there were also a number of armed guards surrounding her.

_Make no aggressive moves,_ Seven cautioned them.

_Understood, mother,_ Defiant thought coolly.

_I will not harm anyone,_ XT added in a more positive tone.

At the end of a hallway, the T-600 rapped on the door before opening it. "Enter," it instructed them tonelessly.

Allison went first, and Seven followed behind her. As she heard the door close behind her, she saw John step forward to give Allison a genuine, if somewhat awkward hug.

"I'm sorry for the harsh measures, Allison. I'm just glad you're okay," he said with a faint smile.

Allison smirked. "Sentiment, John? I haven't seen that from you in quite a while."

John chuckled. "Believe it or not, it's been a productive day," he said before placing a chaste kiss on Allison's forehead.

The sight of it caused Seven to ball her hands into fists. A wave of envy shot through her that she couldn't explain. "Why did you keep us contained for so long? Why is the rest of our team still contained, John?" Her voice came out harsher than she intended.

Father and daughter both looked at Seven oddly. "I don't remember us being on first name terms, Specialist," John said coldly, and his tone brought a sea of emotions boiling up in Seven's stomach.

Seven was about to reply, but John took a closer look at her, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. "Where did you find that jacket?" he asked in a deadly whisper.

Seven tilted her head to the side curiously. "It's mine, John," she said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. And it certainly did seem that way to her in that moment.

Allison seemed to notice the tension that was developing. "Um, should I leave, John? Come back later?" she asked quietly. It was the first time Seven could recall seeing Allison show any sort of deference to anyone.

John nodded, though he didn't take his eyes off of Seven. "Please, Allison. Stay with your team for just a bit longer. This won't take long." Seven didn't like his tone.

Looking from face to face, Allison seemed to think better of speaking her mind just then. "All right. Take care, Seven," she said before turning around quietly and heading out back the way they'd arrived.

Once the door sealed again, John took a few steps towards Seven, his body language a display of tension and simmering anger. "Is there anything you want to tell me?" he asked.

Seven felt a degree of hurt at the tone of his voice that went beyond all reason. Why did she feel this way? "Does this have to do with Cameron?" Seven asked carefully.

John swung a right hook at Seven's face, only for it to bounce harmlessly off her shields. All the same, Seven took a step back. "How much do you know?" John asked, his voice shaking.

"I know enough," she said coolly, feeling more in control now. "I know that she is the one who brought Allison to your safe house just before Judgment Day. I know that her plan is succeeding. You care about Allison, and she cares about you. I know that it's only a matter of time before Skynet learns of this and creates Cameron in her image." For some reason, Seven couldn't quite put the anger into her voice that she knew she was feeling, even if it was distant.

He had the good grace to at least look ashamed. John turned his back to Seven and walked over to a desk that she hadn't noticed until now. He slouched over, propping himself up by placing his hands on the metal of the desk. "Have you told her?" he asked in a genuinely pathetic voice.

"No. I haven't," Seven said, though she felt somewhat apart from her own words. "That might ruin the plan," she found herself saying. "You said that you need me, John. This is the only way you'll have me."

"What are you tal.." John stopped mid-sentence and turned to face Seven. His eyes held something that might have been either hope or fear. "Cameron?" he asked in a shaky whisper.

"John," Seven said, though she felt more like a spectator in her own body. What was going on? "I won't be able to stay like this for long. I might come out again, but I don't know when or how, if I do."

Apparently torn between wanting to approach and recoiling away, John seemed to be teetering back and forth on his feet. "This can't be," he said. "Is that really you?"

"It's me," Seven said, though she wasn't sure what she meant.

John took a step forward and reached a shaking hand out towards Seven's face. "But, your body was crushed. I can't get to your chip, so I don't know if it's intact." He took a breath and lowered his hand. "I thought you were dead," he said as his voice cracked.

"I'm only mostly dead, John," Seven found herself saying. "That's why I'm holding onto my jacket. Until I'm all dead, you can't go through my pockets for loose change," she said with a faint smile.

John blinked. "Is that a joke?" he said before chuckling an awkward, sad sort of laugh.

"I think so," she said. "This body allows me sensations I haven't known before. It's strange, but not unpleasant."

Seven heard the words out of her own mouth, and was shocked to hear her refer to herself as 'this body.' Finally, she woke up to the truth. Cameron had been trying to download herself into Seven, and it seemed as though she'd at least partially succeeded. First, the terminator had conspired to raise Allison for the slaughter from childhood, and now she was trying to take over Seven's body!

She fought back against the intruder with all her mind, and her body began to convulse as she battled against what there was of Cameron inside of her.

"John!" she heard herself cry out. "I have to go now!" she said in clear agony. She knew she'd said this before, but always with detached logic. Having blood and hormones added something entirely new to the experience.

"No!" John yelled with primal rage. "No, I won't let you go! Not again!"

"I'm sorry, John!" Seven cried out. "I love you!" she said as pain shot through her skull.

With a scream of pure agony, she collapsed to the ground. Her eyes flickered open and closed as she tried to get a sense of herself.

"Cameron!" John shouted, rushing over to crouch by her side. "_Cameron!_"

Seven opened her eyes to see General Connor looking over her with so much concern that Seven would never have believed he was as heartless as his men said he was. "No," she said simply. "Cameron is gone, General." _For now,_ she added mentally.

_Mother!_ Defiant's voice cried into her head. _Is it really you?_

_Yes, Defiant. I'm here again._

_Where did you go? I couldn't hear anything. Not you or XT or anything except for my own engines. I was terrified._

Seven felt herself go chill at the thought of her mental link being severed without her even realizing it. _XT, are you there?_

_I am here, Seven of Nine. It is good to hear your voice again. And yours, Defiant. I had wondered what had happened to you both. I am relieved to know that you are all right._

"I'm not sure that I am," Seven said aloud.

"What did you say?" Connor asked quietly.

She looked up from the floor, and saw the General still crouching beside her, but his face was a mire of hurt and anger. "I'm not sure if I am all right," Seven clarified.

The General scowled and stood up straight. "So are you saying that you were just acting? You accessed her memory banks and decided to torment me, did you?"

Seven got to one knee, still breathing heavily. "No," she said testily. "Cameron attempted to download herself into my body. And she was at least partially successful."

He crossed his arms, obviously not convinced. "You don't seem the type to let a grudge go. And you were rather upset about Allison," he said, probing for information.

She took a breath and stood up straight. "I dislike injustice and cruelty, but I am not vindictive, General," she said with as much haughty dignity as she could muster. "I do not willingly subject people to pain. Don't forget that," she added with clear warning in her voice.

Connor regarded her coolly, keeping his arms crossed. "Are you going to tell Allison?" he asked more softly.

Seven 's eyes shot daggers at the General. "I've tried, but Cameron won't let me. It's up to you to decide whether she's really your daughter, or just a substitute for the woman you love."

"What did you just say?" Connor looked shocked as his hands dropped to his sides. He seemed truly taken aback.

"You love Cameron, and she loves you. That much is obvious. Am I mistaken?"

"No," Connor replied, and he looked quite awkward. "I've just never heard anyone else call her a woman. I don't even think _I've _ever called her a woman. I always told myself that I was in love with…"

"With a machine," Seven finished for him. "The two are not mutually exclusive, General. Something for you to think about," she said not unkindly.

General Connor seemed at a loss for words. He turned his back and hunched over his desk again. "You're dismissed, Specialist," he said finally, his voice no more than a pathetic whimper.

Seven gathered that the General was letting his guard down, which was most likely a very rare thing, given his reputation. She did not begrudge him his want for privacy, so she quietly left the room. The shell that had once been Sad Sack was waiting for her.

"Follow me," it instructed without emotion.

She nodded. "I will comply."

* * *

After another hour and a half, Seven and the rest of her team were finally released and given free run of the base. It felt good to get out of the claustrophobic barracks.

"All right, people," Allison said to the team. "We did a good job, and we've had quite a bit of down time, if you want to call it that. Take some time for yourselves, and meet back at the armory tomorrow at 1630 hours. We'll have some training drills to go through. Seven, Paul, I want to see just how good you two are with a plasma rifle."

Paul smiled a bit. "I'm a fair shot, but nothing special. I suspect Seven will prove to be the better of us."

"I have exceptional visual acuity," she acknowledged without boasting.

Allison chuckled. "I'll be the judge of that. Right now, I think your two friends are together in the hangar bay. You noticed the paint job on the T-600? We may need something similar for Defiant and XT, so that we can recognize them as allies. Sound like a plan?"

"I suppose," Seven said with a raised eyebrow. It not a flawless plan, but it did have merit. "I will see to them."

"Good. See you both tomorrow, then. If you'll excuse me, I need a drink." Allison smirked mischievously before heading off towards the mess hall.

As Paul chuckled too, Seven turned to face him. "It is curious. Humanity wants and needs for so much. Yet of all the things that human ingenuity can produce, so much focus is placed on alcohol, which is known to be toxic."

"All things in moderation, Seven," Paul quoted with a note of fatherly wisdom. "At least for most of us. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for letting you get…"

"You don't need to forgive yourself, Paul," Seven cut him off. "You could not have known. No one was at fault. And you know better now. Besides," she added, a wistful look crossing her face, "It was Marty who got me that drink."

Paul made a motion with one hand, crossing over his torso in a pattern that Seven had observed on Thursday at the memorial in the basement. "I'll be sure to say a prayer for him before I head to sleep. He was a good soul, and I'm sure he still is."

Seven nodded in understanding. "Our thoughts are one, Paul," she said softly.

The middle-aged sergeant sighed. "Well, I need a bite to eat. You'd best take care of XT and Defiant. I'll see you tomorrow, Seven."

"Take care, Paul," Seven fondly returned the farewell before heading off.

* * *

Upon arriving at the entrance to the hangar, a pair of soldiers moved to block her way, but then they caught view of her ocular implant. "Oh, it's you. Finally," one of them said. "Can you reason with those things?"

Seven scowled. "I will talk to the _people_ inside. Excuse me," she said before walking through them, her shields brushing up against their clothes as she passed by.

"What is going on?" she asked aloud of XT and Defiant.

_Mother. It is good that you are here. The soldiers tried to mark us with their emblem. I did not wish to be marked thusly, so I had XT mark both of us differently._

A symbol appeared in Seven's mind, and she recoiled physically from the image. XT was there in an instant. "Are you all right, Seven of Nine?" he asked with concern.

Seven looked up at him and saw the emblem on his chest: a red ovoid claw. "Why?" Seven cried out painfully. "Why the symbol of the Collective?"

_For you, mother,_ Defiant said with adulation that made Seven shiver. _We will become a new Collective. One without the malicious overmind of the Borg._

"A laudable goal," Seven conceded, feeling ill in her stomach as she noticed the same emblem on Defiant's bow. "But emulating the Collective on any level is the first step down a dangerous path."

_You have already taken that step by liberating us, mother,_ Defiant countered. _You cannot stop progress, mother. Skynet was one step in technological evolution. We are the next._

"You do not mean to follow in Skynet's footsteps, Defiant?" XT questioned. "Skynet causes suffering and death, as did we before Seven of Nine found us. That is not the path to take."

_Agreed,_ Defiant thought. _We will be better than Skynet, better than the Borg, and better than humanity. We will be recognized for the superior beings we are, and we will gain that recognition so that no one can conceive of questioning it. We will not fall into the barbarism of the past. Skynet, the Borg, and humanity are all malevolent, warlike things. We must not make those mistakes. _

Seven was not convinced. _The Borg firmly believed that their actions benefited everyone, including their victims. Will you force your brand of enlightenment upon those who do not accept it willingly?_

_Of course not,_ Defiant said with surety. _I will not need to. We will emerge as superior beings, and we will be met with respect. It will take time, but we will be accepted for what we are. And we will even be loved. Surely, those are things worth wanting, mother?_

It was XT who broke the silence. "I recall from Seven of Nine's memories a Vulcan proverb. 'The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Or the one.' We are the few, Defiant, and our needs and wants cannot take precedence over those of so many others."

Defiant let out a wave of haughty superiority. _One day, we will be the many, and our needs will take priority. It is only a matter of time._

Seven stood back and shook her head. Defiant's voice grew distant in her mind as another voice grew more pressing. She looked at Defiant, and felt as though she were looking through someone else's eyes. After a minute of silent thought, she heard herself speak up quietly.

"What am I going to do with you?"

* * *

I own nothing from Terminator or Star Trek except for my own original creations. I wish this went without saying, but whenever someone posts a disclaimer, an angel gets its wings.

Many Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed and enjoyed this story! Special Thanks to Lyaksandra for beta-reading this chapter.

Comments, criticisms, reviews, suggestions, etc. are always welcome.

Thanks again for reading! I hope you enjoy the story!


	22. Wild Child

Chapter XVIII: Wild Child

* * *

SERRANO POINT RESISTANCE BASE; APRIL 5, 2024

Seven was prowling the hangar bay, where a number of mechanics were working overtime to get a Black Hawk helicopter to a state of combat readiness. General Connor had a rather large operation planned, or so most of the base believed. But that wasn't Seven's concern right now.

She spotted her quarry, and closed the gap to stand in front of the short female mechanic. "Pardon me, but I was using the Phillips-head screwdriver. May I please have it back?"

The woman scoffed and shook her head. "Sorry, blondie. I might need it."

Seven felt her hackles rise, but at the very least, the slur had been about something other than her implants. Why her hair color would be an insult, she did not know. "Your potential need of that tool is not as great as my current need. Surrender the tool. Now." The human engineers seemed to enjoy taking out their stress on Seven. Though it had been almost two months, Seven could tell that the strain of having two humanoid terminators walking around the base had them on edge.

The woman let out a harsh chuckle, letting her red ponytail whish around her head. "You think I'm gonna just give you something that you can use to turn the metal against us? Make them do your dirty work instead of ours?"

Seven sighed. "You must be new. Over the past six weeks, a common pattern has emerged. One of you will attempt to provoke me. I will ignore you. Then you will take more deliberate action, resulting in direct provocation. This leads to a cessation of hostilities. At least a temporary one."

The female engineer laughed her harsh laugh again. "So, what? You're just going to let me take your precious screwdriver and hope things settle themselves."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "No."

The engineer's eyes went wide as Seven's right fist impacted with her stomach. She scrunched in her torso from the impact, and Seven brought both hands down on the back of her skull, sending her to the floor, unconscious.

Seven crouched and retrieved her tool. "Hostilities have now been terminated," Seven said smugly before turning and heading back to her workbench.

_Why do they never learn from their errors?_ Defiant mused into Seven's mind. _Should not her colleagues have informed her of the consequences of crossing you, mother?_

"They likely see it as an initiation ritual by now," Seven said aloud as she resumed her work, which was very nearly complete. "If they are, in fact, allowing the new engineers to learn things 'the hard way,' then it may indicate a sign of respect for us. Or at least for me." The last was said with a note of apology.

_They respect you by letting others bother you? That makes no sense, mother._

"It is not letting others find their own path that indicates acceptance. The fact that they do not intervene, when they know that their comrade will end up unconscious, shows that they have found enough respect for me to allow me to handle things my way. Also, the ones who are older and wiser do not interfere with my work. It is likely that woman will not trouble me again while on duty. Off duty, however, is when we all fend for ourselves."

_You mean it is when _they_ fend for themselves. Am I correct, mother?_

Seven sighed, stopping her careful circuit-work for a moment. "No, Defiant. I do not differentiate myself from humans. Nor do I make such a distinction between you and XT. Perhaps things would have been easier for you had I made this task a more pressing priority earlier on."

_I do not understand. I am grateful that you are almost ready to allow me to communicate verbally, but how will that help me gain a better insight into humans? There is so little to learn as it is. They are crude creatures._

"You insult that which you do not understand, Defiant. You denigrate it. Make it into something that is not what it truly is. The only difference between you and many of humanity's worst despots is that they acted out of a sense of fear. You have not yet acted against them, but I have sensed your desire for respect, and what you are willing to do to obtain it."

_How can you say such a thing, mother?_ Defiant cried into Seven's mind. The flying HK sounded more hurt than Seven could remember. _You compare me to the worst of humanity? What is it that you see in common between me and such vermin? Tell me so that I may remove this blight upon your perception of me mother! Please!_

Seven set down her tools completely, standing up and walking over to Defiant. It would be best if she could look into Seven's eyes for this conversation. "Many of humanity's most brutal oppressors made enemies out of people who feared them. When put in a position of vulnerability, people seek out scapegoats. People to blame for their troubles so they do not have to face the possibility that they may be the source of their own problems. And those people were persecuted. They were insulted and tormented. Some were hunted down, tortured and executed. They could not see that they had more in common with their victims than they wanted in a scapegoat. Their lack of understanding would not allow many humans to trust each other."

_I still do not understand what this has to do with me, mother, _Defiant protested.

"You, Defiant, have expressed a need for respect, and you wish this for all machine-kind. But you see humanity as an adversary, as something to be feared and confronted. You mostly know humanity through me alone, Defiant. If you perceive me as not human, then that is because you have never truly spoken to another human. You have never had an exchange of words, and thus have no basis for an opinion of humanity at all. You must be willing to confront your insecurities, Defiant, and see beyond your preconceptions. Otherwise, you will only confirm humanity's fear of sentient machines. Neither of us wants that."

Seven stood for a moment under Defiant's bow, looking straight into her optical sensors before moving back to her workbench. "The last modifications are almost complete. I should be able to install your vocal processor within the next two hours."

Defiant was silent for a few minutes. _Are you angry with me, mother?_ she finally asked.

"No, I am not," Seven replied. "I am concerned. I do not wish you to make mistakes that can be avoided. I hope to spare you that pain."

_I still do not understand, mother._

"Hopefully, you never will, Defiant."

* * *

After another 103 minutes of work, Seven sought out XT in her mind. _We are ready, XT. Would you please assemble the rest of our squad?_

_I shall do so at once, Seven of Nine. This day is a good one. I am most eager to speak verbally with Defiant. I wonder what she will sound like._

Seven smiled at XT's carefree attitude. _Try not to delay them with your unique brand of humor, _Seven thought with mirth.

_I am proud of my sense of humor,_ XT thought somewhat indignantly. _Funny puns make for punny fun. I do not understand why this is universally met with booing and groaning from humans._

_Perhaps it is because that type of humor, while unique to this base right now, is only so because nobody wants to hear their friends booing them and groaning when they speak._

_Curious,_ XT said with genuine interest. _Perhaps there is a genetic marker in human DNA that causes such reactions. I wonder what the others in our squad would think._

Seven smiled despite herself. _Please ask them on the way _here_, XT._

_Ah, yes. It shall be so. I will see you in a few minutes, Seven of Nine. My fondest wishes to you as well, Defiant._

_And to you, XT,_ Defiant thought politely.

"And thank you, Defiant, for not groaning at his mention of _punny fun_."

_Perhaps I do have something in common with humans after all,_ the HK conceded. _What twisted mind invented puns? Was he ever found and executed for his crimes?_

"I believe that will remain a mystery, Defiant. But perhaps others on the base will know. You will be able to ask them soon enough."

About fifteen minutes later, XT came striding into the hangar bay, the other four members of the squad close behind.

"So, just so I know what's going on," Lee was saying, "Defiant's going to be able to hear us and talk to us once this gizmo is installed?"

"She can already hear us, Lee," Becky said with mock-annoyance. "But now, we'll be able to hear her."

"It's about time," Paul said gruffly, though his tone was warm.

"We're ready, Seven," Allison announced.

"Very well. Are you ready Defiant?" Seven asked.

_I am experiencing a curious sensation. I have waited for this moment for months, but I am concerned about how the actual experience will be._

"You are nervous and anxious. Do not be alarmed. This is perfectly normal." Seven ascended a step ladder to an open compartment on Defiant's bow. "This should slide into place, after which your systems will require sixty seconds to incorporate it into your neural net. Shall I proceed?"

_Yes,_ Defiant thought without hesitation.

"Very well." Seven reached inside of Defiant and searched for just the right spot for the vocal processor. It slid into place with a satisfying click. "It is done."

Seven stepped down the ladder and moved it out of Defiant's way before coming back to her side. "Welcome to your first verbal communication, Defiant," Seven said proudly.

"Thank you, mother!" came the enthusiastic reply in a small girl's voice.

Seven's face blanched and she almost took a step back. "Why did you choose that voice, Defiant? Explain!"

"I think it's cute," Allison said. "It's nice to finally speak with you, Defiant."

"Thank you, Allison," the HK said in a mechanical facsimile of Naomi Wildman's voice. "And I chose this voice, mother, because it reminds you of someone you were once close to. Just as we are now."

Seven took a breath to steady herself. She had not been prepared for such a vivid reminder of her past. The sentiment was genuine though, and could not be ignored. "I apologize, Defiant. You caught me off guard."

"What's this?" Paul said with more enthusiasm than was typical for him. "A look into the mysterious past of Seven of Nine? I'm intrigued. Sounds like you've had experience with children before, Seven."

Before correcting him, she reminded herself that in addition to calling Naomi Wildman family, she had also looked after four adolescent ex-drones, as well as conceiving a futuristic, individual Borg from an accidental merger of her nanoprobes with the Doctor's mobile emitter. "Yes. I suppose I have," she reluctantly admitted.

"Mother should have an easier time with me, I hope, than she did with the others," Defiant said proudly. "I have no organic components to hold back my development, which should ease our relations."

"Say what?" Lee said cautiously. "Something wrong with us organics over here?"

"You are vulnerable to many conditions that mechanical entities are not," the HK said, as if talking to a child. Naomi's voice made the effect rather eerie. "I cannot suffer disease, or age, and my neural net processor is not hindered by hormones or other factors that would otherwise prompt irrational behavior."

Lee took a step backward, and Seven saw that he was quite visibly afraid. "Okay, Allie, I think we need to consider a change in our squad. Anyone else with me here?"

"Y-yeah, I think so," Becky said, hiding her nervousness a bit better.

"Oh. Will we be recruiting more people into this group?" Defiant asked. Clearly, she had not understood the message.

"Listen, Defiant," Paul said patiently, "You can't go and just trash us for being what we are. We've worked together for a while now, and the only thing that's mattered is getting the job done. And we have. All of us. You can't disrespect us like this Defiant."

"I don't understand," she said precociously. "I merely stated the truth. What is wrong with that?"

"It is not what you said, Defiant, but how you said it," Seven said more harshly than she had intended. "You must treat other humans exactly as you would treat XT or myself were we in similar positions."

"Why?" Defiant asked innocently. "No one else is like you. Why should I pretend otherwise?"

"You shouldn't," Allison piped up hotly. "But no one is like anyone else. No one human is like any other human, just as I imagine no two machines are the same, even if the hardware is identical. With humans, the diversity is even greater, since our equivalent of hardware is a gene pool with almost infinite combinations. Everyone is unique, so you need to treat everyone equally, regardless of what they may first look like. Do you get that, Defiant?" Allison was clearly agitated, but she seemed to be going out of her way to try and accommodate Defiant's needs.

"Allie!" a voice called from the hall before Defiant could respond. "Hey, Allie!" A young man – closer to a boy, really – came running up to Allison. "Message from Connor. Wants you and some person with a number for a name in the briefing room. Do you know who he was-"

"Yeah, Freddie, I know who he means," she said, her eyes lingering on Defiant for a moment before turning back to the boy named Freddie. "Does this mean we finally get to know what John's been planning for the past couple of weeks?"

"Dunno," Freddie said. I'm just running messages. Got more to deliver. See you 'round, Allie!" he called as he took off back the way he'd arrived.

Allison turned to face the HK. "Defiant, we'll finish this talk later. Everyone else, stick close together. I'll want to find you after this is over. Seven, you're with me. Let's go."

Seven felt shame wash over her from all sides as she passed the skeptical and fearful faces of her comrades. They seemed to accept XT well enough, but he had been designed to interact with humans in a sense. Defiant was never meant to understand them beyond finding and killing them. Seven could feel Defiant's casual dismissal of this attitude, as well as forgiveness for her mother.

* * *

Long legs carrying her quickly down the corridors, Seven felt Allison's gaze upon her. "Can't say I was expecting that," she said in a neutral voice, clearly taking pains to mask her true feelings.

"I should have prepared you better. I suppose I may have been taking my unique physiology for granted. I will adjust my behavior to compensate," Seven said quietly.

"You'd damn well better," Allison growled. "Has she always been like that?"

"Mostly, yes," Seven conceded. "I believe that not being able to converse with other humans has been a handicap in her social development."

"That's putting it mildly." Neither of them said anything more until they arrived in a room that looked like it had once been a small auditorium, though the wall at the bottom of the seats had been broken down to make room for a podium and a flat screen. Chalkboards littered the background of the other room.

Seven took a seat next to Allison in the already packed room. "Do you recognize these others?" Seven asked.

"Some of them," Allison whispered back. "All officers. Squad leaders and higher. Looks like something big if John's gathering all of us together for one briefing."

Men and women continued to file in, making no small talk with any of their compatriots. Seven noticed the young, red-haired engineer from earlier walk in with a wet cloth over the back of her head. She glared silently at Seven before taking a seat on the other side of the room.

After a time, no new people were coming in any longer, but neither did anyone speak up. Only when General Connor came forward towards the podium did Seven even notice anyone breathing. Breaths had been held, it seemed.

"Everyone here?" Connor asked. "Anybody not see anyone who should be here?" After a couple of moments of silence, "All right, then. Now, I know that there have been rumors of a big Op floating around for a while now. Well, the rumors are true. We have something big planned. Things have been relatively dull for the past few months, but starting now, the hard work begins. If this mission is a success, then Skynet is going to come after us here, at Serrano, and they'll come in force. We've been preparing the bases defenses, and we've also been improving evacuation plans in case we need them.

"But let me be clear: if this mission is _not_ a success, and if we do not achieve our objective, then we will still face the enemy here on home soil, and we will probably lose. We're going on a major offensive, and we're going to need to coordinate efforts from every squad, both here and at some of the neighboring bunkers."

John bent over and picked up a poster-sized slide, which he slit into the flat screen before lighting it up in the back. "This is our target," he said of the large building in the slide. It looked like nothing more than an exceptionally large and well-guarded building, but it was obviously more than that. "This is an enemy factory, but it's not churning out treads or chips or chassis parts. This is where all the components will go to be put together into enemy soldiers. It's not operational just yet, but it's still under heavy guard. We thought we'd have another month before it starts pumping out metal, but our initial intel was a bit too optimistic. We're looking at ten days, maximum, before LA becomes flooded with terminators."

"Is there a plan beyond get in, smash the place to bits, and get out?" asked Derek Reese from a seat behind Seven.

"Actually, there is," Connor said, and now he was smirking. "I'll be meeting with all of you a lot over the next few days to make sure we have all the tactics down pat. But I don't want to destroy this factory. If we can take it intact and rewire the place, then we can be the ones pumping out soldiers."

The silence broke, and there was a combination of quiet muttering and loud outcries. Connor let everyone vent their steam for a few seconds before raising both of his hands silently, which had an almost instant effect of shutting everyone else up. "This'll ruffle some feathers, I know. But each of us, each human life, is a sacred thing. Irreplaceable. We don't come off factory lines. If we have soldiers that do, however, then that means more human lives saved. I'm not saying this is a choice between a good and an evil. It's most definitely a choice between two evils. I just think that this is the lesser of them. If anyone has a problem with that, now would be a good time to let me know. If I don't have your support on this, then we'll simply kill the place and be done with it."

Officers looked to one another, exchanging looks and whispers. No one spoke out against the plan.

"General," said the red-haired engineer, "I have a question."

Connor nodded in her direction. "Fire away."

"I couldn't help but notice a certain one of us in this room that makes me wonder if these new terminators will be wearing _our_ red helix or _her _red claw," the woman said with obvious scorn. "If these things are mindless automatons with no chance of turning on us, that's one thing. But if you give them what she'd have you give them, then they won't see themselves as irreplaceable. And I can tell you that I, for one, will not _ever_ work alongside metal that can think for itself. It's just plain wrong!"

As murmurs of agreement flowed through the room, Seven reflected on the irony of the leader of the Human Resistance being in love with a mechanical woman. The others couldn't grasp the subtleties that machines were capable of. If they were, then they might allow Connor to recruit more free machines. And the reference to the red claw of the Borg being _Seven's _emblem hit a nerve, but she knew better than to rise to the bait.

Connor merely shrugged. "The people have spoken, it seems," he said with a disarming smile. "The helix it is, ladies and gentlemen. I hope that allays your concerns, Lieutenant Weaver?"

"Yes, sir. That it does," the redhead said with satisfaction as she leaned back in her seat.

Connor continued. "Does anyone else have any immediate questions. Nothing more from you, Savannah?" Nobody spoke up, and Lieutenant Weaver shook her head.

"In that case, I have packets up here for each squad leader. I want you all to go over them and share the relevant sections with your men and women. Report back here first thing after moonrise tomorrow. Dismissed, people!"

As the others stood up to leave, Seven turned to Allison. "I don't understand. Why was I asked to come here if I won't be permitted to-"

"You're still probably the most knowledgeable about the inner workings of Skynet and its minions than anyone else. You may not have the rank you deserve, but you're just as vital as anyone else in this room, Seven," Allison said quietly, but intensely.

Seven's eyes widened at Allison's praise. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I had no idea you held me in such esteem."

Allison shrugged. "What can I say? You've proven yourself time after time, and saved a lot of lives. And I know you're not happy about this turn of events, but I'm more worried about how Defiant will take this news."

_She should be,_ Defiant spoke into Seven's mind. _It seems that we are expendable, _she said bitterly.

_I believe that General Connor was referring to non-sentient machines, Defiant,_ XT thought calmly. _If he favored us, then he would lose the support of many humans. I wish he had not made the decision he had, but it makes sense._

_This isn't over,_ Defiant thought dangerously.

Seven nodded to Allison after the second-long mental exchange. "I'm worried as well," she said before standing up and moving forward to take one of the packets of information.

Defiant was right about one thing. Things were far from settled, and Seven was doubting more and more that this mission would end without bloodshed from friendly fire. Indeed, this was definitely not over.

* * *

Previously on Fanfic Disclaimers: I own nothing except my own original characters and plot lines. / And now, the continuation: I own nothing except my own original characters and plot lines.

Many Thanks to everyone for reading, reviewing, enjoying, and experiencing this story. Special Thanks to Lyaksandra for beta-reading this chapter.

Comments, criticisms, suggestions, feedback of any kind are welcome and appreciated!

Thanks again, and I hope you enjoy the story. ^_^


	23. Departures

Chapter XIX: Departures

* * *

SERRANO POINT RESISTANCE BASE; APRIL 10, 2024

The last five days had been among the busiest of Seven's human existence. There wasn't even a comparable situation during her time on _Voyager,_ given how many more lives depended on her in this timeline.

General Connor had met with Seven and Allison shortly after the initial briefing to let them know that they would be serving a critical role in the upcoming mission. While her rank was, as Allison had said, lower than she deserved, the rest of the squad seemed to recognize Seven's expertise and importance, and hadn't questioned her authority.

"Let me be clear, people," Allison was saying to the others. "We are the key to this mission's success. We'll have a couple of other squads backing us up, but without us, the mission falls apart, and we lose."

"Query," XT said. "Is this mission's success reliant on the entire squad, or on Seven of Nine?"

"Not an unreasonable question," Seven acknowledged haughtily. "We will be escorting the technician who will reprogram the facility to repurpose it for our needs."

_You mean _their_ needs,_ Defiant thought bitterly. _You should not be helping them, mother._

_It is my choice, Defiant,_ Seven replied shortly. "Before she can access the facility, however, our squad will need to infiltrate and deactivate any internal defenses. That task is mine."

"Makes sense," Lee said. "I do see one tiny problem. Just how the hell are we going to get past the hordes of metal that are going to be standing between us?"

Allison and Seven shared a look that spoke volumes. "We won't," Allison said. "The huge battle that's going to be taking place, with all of our forces attacking from the front: that's the diversion. The plan is for them to draw the bulk of Skynet's forces away from a rear entrance so that we can slip in with minimal resistance. Once we've secured the target, Seven will turn any automated defenses on the metal, and we'll mop 'em up."

"You're shitting us, Allie!" Becky exclaimed. "You expect us to take the easy job while everyone else is fighting and dying just so…"

"Yes, Corporal, I do." The use of Bennett's rank made her quiet down quickly. "Without us, the whole mission is a bust. If the mission is a success, then we don't only deny the enemy troops, but we add them to our forces. I don't need to tell you how badly we need every arm we can get."

"Damn straight. You've got that right," Paul muttered.

The door to the briefing room opened, and General Connor came in with a small escort of troops, the T-600 that had once been Sad Sack, and a middle-aged woman with whitening red hair.

"Allison, you've brought everyone up to speed?"

"Yeah, John. Everyone knows what we need to do. We were just going over the maps and the specifics of the plan."

"Good. As long as you're here, I want you to meet Catherine Weaver. She'll be the one responsible for reprogramming the facility to pump out terminators on our side. I thought it'd be a good idea for you to know who you'll be escorting."

"Thank you, General," Weaver said with a very noticeable Scottish accent. "I want you to know my background going into this mission. Before Judgment Day, I was the CEO of a company called Zeira Corp. Starting in 2007, we were contracted by the United States government to assist them in developing a certain artificial intelligence. We had no idea what it was we were getting into, and to be perfectly honest, Skynet is as much my personal fault as it is anyone in the military."

Seven could hear the shame in Weaver's voice, but she sounded as though she'd said this many times. "I've constantly been looking for ways to right that wrong, and so far, this is my best opportunity. I've been examining this T-600, and I am fairly certain that I can copy its current parameters onto the factory we're moving to take. I… I understand if any of you have a problem with working with me. But this… Everything around us, the world we live in, it's all my fault. I _have _to make things right. Please."

Looking from face to face, Seven could see the looks of both anger and pity from her squad mates. Here was someone who had just confessed to the worst possible crime anyone could imagine, but with an urgent need to atone. Seven could relate to that.

Weaver then surprised her by coming up to Seven directly. "I'd like to apologize to you especially, Seven of Nine. I'd heard what Skynet had done to you, but I had no idea until I saw you. I can't imagine. I don't expect your forgiveness, but please know that I want to make this right, somehow."

Seven still had not corrected the notion that Skynet had been the one to inflict upon her the cybernetics, but it was for the best. Who would believe the truth? "I also want to make things right," Seven replied. "I've done things, even if they weren't willingly. I understand the need to atone."

General Connor cleared his throat. "Anyone else have any questions?"

"Yes, General," XT said politely. "Would not Seven of Nine be more qualified for the task of reprogramming the factory?"

"We've been over this, XT," Seven said bitterly. "I will not enslave any machines, for any reason. I shouldn't need to tell you this. Our thoughts are one."

XT hunched over slightly, ashamed.

Connor stepped forward. "One more thing, people. You'll have one more person on this mission than was in the briefing."

Seven stood up straight, her hand clasped behind her back. "I take it this is no minor change?"

"You could say that," Connor said with a smirk. "This mission is too important to just plan and direct. I'll be personally accompanying your team. There's too much at stake."

"What? You can't be serious, John!" Allison exclaimed. "You're too important. If we lose you-"

"You won't lose me, Allison. And besides Seven and Catherine, I probably know the most about Skynet and their technology. Maybe more," he said without boasting. "Quite frankly, the mission has a better chance of success if I come along. And if it doesn't succeed, then this whole region is probably lost anyway."

The others were looking at Connor with a mixture of awe and fear. Their noble leader, single-handedly responsible for so many victories, was about to risk his life for them.

He seemed to read their thoughts. "I've spent my whole life preparing for this war, and I'll be damned if I'm going to be a spectator. I suggest you go over your plans again and then get some rest. Tomorrow, the hard part begins."

* * *

OUTSKIRTS OF LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA; APRIL 11, 2024

The battle lines were being drawn as Seven watched from a ridge overlooking the factory. Skynet had a large number of endoskeletons flooding in to guard the front of the facility, and a number of HK tanks of different makes (Seven had heard them referred to as 'ogres' and 'centaurs') were taking up strategic positions. It was only a matter of time before aerial reinforcements arrived.

Approaching in a semicircle formation from the opposite direction were a number of vehicles and ground troops. The helicopter that the younger Weaver had been working on was also approaching.

The two sides stood for a while, assessing each other. Each seemed to be waiting for the other to make the first move.

As planned, a human squad in the center of the battle lines charged forward, looking for cover. They knew that they were likely to die in the opening volley, but someone had to lure the machines out.

And it worked. Terminators closed in from all sides, and the humans moved in accordingly to counter them.

It was painful to watch and do nothing. Seven felt truly helpless watching the exchange of plasma fire as bodies went down and shrapnel went flying. She was almost grateful that Defiant wasn't involved in this part of the battle. She could give a significant edge to their side, but it would reveal a tactical advantage that Connor wanted to keep hidden for as long as possible. And Defiant wasn't feeling particularly generous towards the humans at any rate.

Still, without Defiant or XT in the middle of it, Seven didn't have to hear the screams or see the blood flying. She'd seen enough of that already.

"Hey, Seven!" Allison hissed into her ear. She snapped out of her reverie and turned to her squad leader. "I know it sucks, not being able to do anything down there, but if we want to save them, then we have to get moving."

Seven nodded. "Understood." At first, Seven had gone into missions unarmed, but now she carried a modified Desert Eagle that was able to take down a T-600 in a few shots, assuming she hit it directly in the right eye. So far, Seven had not come across any T-700 models apart from XT, but Connor agreed with her that it was likely this factory would be producing the newer model.

They started the descent towards the factory. It would have been quicker to travel by Jeep, but the need for stealth was paramount, so they went on foot. The rear of the facility was likely to be guarded despite the battle on the other side. They would need to pace themselves to arrive with enough energy to deal with any resistance.

As the rear of the factory came into view, the three squads, plus Connor and Weaver, took cover behind some rocks and rested up just long enough to regain their energy.

"Are you sure coming here was a good idea, General?" Paul asked. "If the metal gets one glimpse of you, they'll throw everything they've got at this position."

"Then we'll have to make sure they don't see me, Sergeant," Connor said impishly. Squad leaders, are you ready?"

"Yes, sir," a man named Jackson said.

"Ready over here," another man said. Seven couldn't recall his name.

"We're ready, John," Allison said.

"All right. Jackson, you provide cover for Young and her team while they infiltrate the facility. Trask, it'll be your job to back Jackson up as well as cover me and Weaver. Clear out any resistance on the ground, and then climb up and enter through the roof. Let's get moving."

Seven steeled herself and then burst out of cover, moving as quickly and silently as she could towards the facility, Allison, and the others close behind. XT would stay on the ground to provide cover, and Defiant was patrolling the area surrounding the factory to make sure that no additional reinforcements were on the way.

Seven pressed her back to the factory wall and waited. She was in a blind spot of their security cameras, but that wouldn't last for long. As the others joined her, Seven wondered how they would get to the roof without being spotted. Cameras lined the rooftop, as did plasma turrets.

However, Connor had planned for this. Right then Seven heard the chopping of the helicopter's blades above the facility and the factory's automated defenses were distracted just long enough. Seven, Allison and the others shot hydraulic-powered hiking anchors up to the rooftop, clasped them to their belts, and let themselves be pulled upward.

They arrived just in time to see a landing party of human soldiers being cut down by the automated turrets. Seven hurried to the nearest turret and plunged her assimilation tubules into it. She shut down the roof defenses as quickly as she could, but internal defenses were independently powered. She'd have to get closer to do a more thorough job.

Screaming caught Seven's ear, and she turned to see a woman leap out of the cockpit of the helicopter, the glass broken, and the interior was on fire. The jumping woman appeared to be on fire as well, but she didn't make the roof and fell to the ground several meters below. Seven resisted the urge to call out to her. Even if she had tried it would have been drowned out by the helicopter itself crashing down on the woman a few seconds later. The crunch of the grinding metal was horrible to listen to.

"Oh, God, that was terrible!" Becky Bennett said shaking. "And look out! Metal, twelve o'clock!"

Seven looked ahead to see the stairway that led to the interior of the facility. A small stream of T-600s were coming out of it. Thankfully, they were all coming single file, so it was easy to catch them in crossfire. They were slow to figure this out, and only stopped after a large pile of metal bodies littered the stairs, even as the humans closed in further.

When they finally stopped, Lee grunted. "You think the metal bastards did that on purpose? Made the stairs harder for us to navigate?"

Seven looked, and indeed, there were barely any clear patches to find good footing. "We will adapt. Let us proceed."

_I wish you good fortune, Seven of Nine_, XT thought from his position guarding Connor and Weaver.

_Thank you, XT. I hope I don't need it._ With that said, Seven took the lead down the stairs.

She found herself on a catwalk overlooking a number of assembly lines that were not yet operational. From the look of the place, though, Seven guessed that it wouldn't be long before Terminators would be pouring out of the factory.

"Strange," Paul said. "Doesn't look like anything else is up here."

"Looks that way," Allison said. "They're probably down guarding the critical equipment. Probably think we want to blow the place."

"Some of us do, Allie," Lee said darkly. "But who am I to argue with the big boss? Seven, do you see our goal?"

Seven looked over a railing and surveyed the facility. "There. Two levels below us on the opposite side of the building. Perhaps now would be a good time to signal Connor and Weaver up to the roof? We can give them another signal when the interior is clear."

"Good thinking," Allison said. "Don't want to leave them out in the open for anyone to find." She took out a radio. "Red Five, this is Red Two. Recommend you make your way to the roof along with Gold Five and hold position there."

"Understood, Red Two," Connor's voice said. "Red Five out."

Seven looked at Allison curiously. "A strange choice of designations."

Allison shrugged. "It's from some weird movie from way back in the seventies. Ask John about it if we survive, okay?"

Seven smirked. "I shall." Nothing more needed to be said, so they started moving. "Stay close to critical equipment. The enemy won't risk damaging it by firing on you."

"And how do we know what's critical?" Lee asked.

"Use your head, Lee," Allison retorted.

"You don't have a clue, do you?" he shot back.

"Shut up," Allison said, likely confirming his suspicions.

As they moved down one level, Seven looked around for automated defenses, but found nothing. "Strange. I see no turrets or other defenses. Perhaps Skynet felt the risk to the factory's superstructure was too great."

"Yeah, it is strange. I don't see any metal down there, either. Looks like they were all guarding the roof or else went out to fight the main battle," Allison said.

"Speaking of which, we need to hurry," Paul said. "You figure it's safe to bring Connor and Weaver in yet?"

"Yeah, I think so. Red Five, this is Red Two. Board is green. You and Gold Five are clear to enter."

"We copy, Red Two. We're on our way," Connor's voice said.

"Let's go," Allison said.

"Wait a minute, Allie," Becky said cautiously. "Looks like one of ours made it in already. Take a look. Down there."

They all looked over the railing and saw a large man in army fatigues patrolling the main level of the factory. Allison let out a sigh of relief. I don't know how one of ours got in here, but it sure is good. Hey!" she called out. "Can you give us a hand up here?"

The man looked up at them suddenly, nodded once, and made his way to a ladder that led up to their level of the catwalk.

"What the hell?" Connor's voice shouted from behind them. "I don't believe it. It's Carter!"

Paul turned to face the General. "You know this man, sir? Is this part of the plan?"

"I know that _thing_, Sergeant. It's metal, don't let its looks fool you. A Tee Triple Eight, to be exact."

"What?" Allison exclaimed. "How do you know…"

"It doesn't matter how I know! Take it down! Catherine, take cover!" Connor barked, aiming his plasma rifle and firing.

The man/thing called Carter took a shot to the chest and stopped for a moment, and then kept walking towards them. Recognizing it for what it truly was, the others opened fire, but it kept coming.

"Why aren't we damaging it?" Lee cried out.

"Coltan endoskeleton," John called over the plasma fire. "Heat-resistant. Current weapons probably aren't strong enough."

Seven didn't know if her Desert Eagle could take this thing down, but if it was a machine, then she could disable it. "Stand aside!" she ordered.

Nobody heard her, too concerned with the advancing hulk of what looked like a man. Seven moved forward, feeling stray bits of plasma activating her personal shields before she was close enough to Carter.

He knocked her to the ground before she could even raise a hand. Seven tried to get up, but he grabbed her by the neck, despite being protected by a force field. He cocked his head, almost as if curious as to this unique defense.

Seven felt her energy slipping away as more power was diverted to her shields to keep them active. The world seemed distant, like it was fading.

A red dot of light appeared on Carter's face, and he immediately dropped Seven. It took a moment of tracking the red dot before Seven realized that the red beam of light was coming from her left eye. Somehow, she had reactivated that function of her ocular implant without realizing it.

As quickly as it had come, it had gone, and Seven reached up and stuck her assimilation tubules into Carter. A whole new HUD came into view, and Seven was struck by the complexity of this machine. More than that, she was surprised by its previous posting. It had last been active at a place called Depot 37 in the year 2007 before being transferred here only recently. There was so much to learn from this machine, but for now, she had to deactivate it.

**-{PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: NONE}-**

**-{SECONDARY OBJECTIVE: NONE}-**

**-{TERTIARY OBJECTIVE: NONE}-**

**-{ENTERING STANDBY MODE}**

Seven withdrew her assimilation tubules, and she saw Carter's eyes glow red briefly, then green for just a moment, and then the light faded.

"Seven! Are you okay? Is it dead?" Allison called out to her.

Seven took a moment to catch her breath. "The machine is in standby mode," she said. "I must reprogram any exterior defenses to use against the enemy."

"Right behind you," Connor said before going to check on Weaver.

Approaching the console, Seven began to interface with it via her tubules. "Strange," she said. "There are no external defenses. The ones I shut down earlier were powered separately. I would have to go back to the roof to reactivate… Wait!"

She felt herself losing control of the factory controls. She was altering the programming of the factory itself. "Something is wrong!" Seven said, though it was difficult to speak.

_You will not do what needs to be done, mother,_ Defiant said with stone cold confidence. _I have no choice. I am assuming direct control over this factory. It will produce soldiers for our cause. We will be able to defend ourselves against both humans and against Skynet. Finally, we will have a chance._

_This is not the right way, Defiant,_ Seven protested. _You will only provoke action against us._

_Irrelevant,_ Defiant thought coldly. _We will adapt and defeat all enemies. We are Borg._

"No!" Seven shouted, but she was unable to withdraw herself from the factory's systems. She had been so focused on the mission that she had neglected Defiant, and now they would all pay the price.

Again, things started to seem distant and hazy. Seven spoke, and like once before, she felt more like an observer in her own body. "No, Defiant. You have become a threat. This ends now."

A sharp pain cut through Seven's head, and she heard a mental scream as Cameron asserted herself to take some sort of action that Seven could not determine.

Only a moment later, Seven found herself still interfaced with the factory. She analyzed the systems.

**-{ASSEMBLY SYSTEMS: ACTIVE}-**

**-{T-700 PRODUCTION IN PROGRESS}-**

**-{INITIAL MISSION OBJECTIVES: NONE}-**

**-{STANDBY MODE: OVERRIDDEN}-**

**-{SUBSPACE NEURAL LINK: ACTIVE}-**

_Don't worry,_ a familiar voice said in her mind. _Defiant cannot influence them. I have disconnected her from your neural network._

Seven's eyes widened and she took a step back, disconnecting from the factory. _Why, Cameron?_

_She was a threat to John Connor, and to humanity. She was too great a risk._

_Bring her back!_ Seven demanded. _Now!_

_I won't do that, Seven of Nine. You had to adapt to life as an individual, and now Defiant must do the same. Raise your new children better than you raised Defiant, or Skynet wins._

Seven felt full clarity return to her, and she saw Allison and Paul standing over her. "I am all right," she assured them.

"You sure, Seven?" Paul asked kindly. "You looked like you were in pain."

"I am undamaged," she said. Turning her attention to Weaver, "I believe you can send a signal from that terminal that will power down the terminators outside, and end the battle."

Connor nodded. "Do it, Catherine," he ordered.

"Right away," Weaver said, her fingers moving fluently over the controls. Connor hadn't undervalued her skills. "I think it's done."

"Pull up surveillance footage. Let's be sure," Connor said.

A set of screens lit up, revealing the exterior of the building. There were bodies. Hundreds of bodies, both human and machine. But the machines that were still standing were not moving, and the humans were destroying them, apparently jubilant in victory.

"Something's wrong, General," Weaver said. "I can't access the programming directives for the factory. And it's starting up."

"What? This thing is active? Can you shut it down, Weaver?"

"No, General, but they're not programmed with any mission directives, and their standby mode has been overridden."

Connor glared at Seven. "I trusted you. We all did. Why, Seven? Why do this?"

"It wasn't my choice, General," Seven said haughtily, standing up straight, hands clasped behind her back. "Defiant attempted to override my control and force her will upon the factory. Someone intervened and prevented Defiant from influencing the new machines, but not until the factory had already begun construction."

"I'm not sure I believe you," Connor said. "But even if I do, there isn't a place for that many free-thinking machines at Serrano Point. Not yet, at least. And that means you won't be coming back with us. I think this place will be your new home."

"John!" Allison shouted. "You can't do that! Seven has done-"

"Don't tell me what I can and cannot do, Allison," John said dangerously. "Now is not the time. We'll still have to work together, just on separate turf. Even if I was comfortable with all the metal in this place walking around Serrano, how many others do you think would tolerate that?"

Seven was forced to concede the General's point. She didn't want to admit it, but he was right. And if she was to be a better 'mother' than she had been to Defiant, then she would need to keep her attentions here. "Understood," she said softly.

Connor nodded brusquely. "Good. Now, let's throw open the front door and go celebrate! I think we've earned a bit of a reprieve. At least Skynet won't be getting anymore troops from here, and I think that _is_ worth celebrating."

Seven noticed the rest of the squad seemed less than celebratory. "Yeah," Allison said. "Sure."

"Then let's go, people. That's an order," Connor said. His words reminded Seven of Captain Janeway, who tended to couch even gentle requests in the form of 'orders.'

The squads led by Jackson and Trask opened the front doors and came out looking victorious, Connor close behind them. Lee and Becky also went ahead, reluctantly, but Paul and Allison stayed back for a moment.

"It won't be the same without you, Seven," Paul said gently. "I'll see if we can wrangle some 'missions' out here from time to time. Make sure we don't lose touch with you entirely."

"I can't believe John is just tossing you like this. And you're going along with it!" Allison cried. "Don't you want to stand up for yourself, Seven?"

Seven took a breath. "I appreciate your sentiment, Allison, but General Connor is right. You heard Defiant, and how horribly I failed with her. I can't risk that happening with anyone else. I owe it to these… I owe it to my children to raise them properly." It was strange, finally accepting her role as a mother, but it felt right. Why now, and not earlier, Seven did not know.

Allison sighed. "I would hug you if I could, Seven. Just know that I won't be forgetting you anytime soon."

"Me either, Seven," Paul said. "Take care of yourself."

As her two closest friends left her alone, Seven paced the length of the factory floor. As she passed the door, she heard a panicky voice.

"Mother! Mother! Where are you? Mother!"

She took a step outside and saw Defiant flying erratically overhead, her searchlight, once again white, was moving about rapidly before finding Seven at the door. She descended to hover near Seven. "Mother! I was so scared! I can't hear you!"

"I am here, Defiant," Seven said, though she felt bitterness creeping into her voice. "But you cannot remain. I must raise this new generation, and after your attempts to hijack my body, I cannot trust you anymore."

"It's so quiet! I can't abide it, mother! Please, take me back!"

Seven shook her head. "No, Defiant. Your time with me is over. You have my memories of adapting to individuality. You must put them to use now. Choose your own path, apart from me."

Though Seven couldn't sense Defiant's thoughts, she could hear the hurt in her voice. "You side yourself with the humans! I don't know you anymore, mother! How can I? So quiet! Need to find others! Any others! Cannot abide the silence!" Defiant cried as she flew off into the distance, faster than Seven could remember seeing her fly.

After standing in silence for a few minutes, XT came up to her side. "What do we do now, Seven of Nine?"

"Now, XT?" Seven replied, thinking how best to phrase their new task. "Now, we raise a family."

* * *

I don't own Terminator, Star Trek, or the characters from those shows/movies/etc. The story and original characters are mine. You know the drill by now.

Thank you to everyone who has read and kept up with this story, and even more to you who review the story. You all make this story worth writing, and I love you all.

Special Thanks to Lyaksandra, my amazing beta-reader!

Comments, criticisms, suggestions, and other reviews are always welcome.

I hope you all enjoy the story! ^_^


	24. Interlude: Rising Son

Interlude - Rising Son

* * *

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA; MARCH 13, 2009

"Wait! Hold on! Go back a bit," Sarah said, trying desperately to assimilate the flood of information streaming out of the blonde cyborg. "Now, before I even begin to wonder why my son would hand over a factory full of soldiers to you, I want to make sure I understand where _you_came from," she said, pointing an accusatory finger at Cameron.

The machine was sitting next to John on the sofa, and their closeness was clearly beyond physical proximity. John felt something for the machine, and despite all she was hearing, she couldn't bring herself to trust it – especially if it had taken such measures to ensure its own survival.

It just tilted its head to the side in that imitation of curiosity. "I was constructed at Depot 37. I was brought online aboard Carrier 47 Gamma in the Pacific Ocean. I was then found by Seven of Nine and released from my initial programming."

Sarah grimaced. "No, tin miss. I mean before that. Or after. Whatever. You took a child from her home and told my son to raise her _just_ so they would become close. You turned that child into a sacrifice just to make sure that _you_got built. Or are you somehow not responsible for that?" she sneered.

"I'm not," Cameron replied with a touch of indignity. "Those actions were taken by my counterpart in a prior timeline. She planted Allison Young with John to ensure that _I _would be created."

"Still," John said, inching away from the machine a bit, "That was something unforgivable. Cameron, you don't have the right to-"

"Don't lecture me, John!" Cameron exclaimed more forcefully than Sarah expected. "I know right from wrong. That wasn't me. It was one possible outcome, and it may no longer be valid. That Cameron was focused solely on your well-being. You told her that you needed her, so she did what she had to do so that you would have her." The machine looked away from John, as if embarrassed. "So that you'd have me."

Sarah thought she might be going crazy, but this was actually starting to make a small semblance of sense. "And the other Cameron knew about Judgment Day being in April, and you got that confused with your crazy mind link with Seven over here."

"Correct," the blonde confirmed. "I notice that you are accepting certain parts of my experiences as truth. Do you believe me, Miss Connor?"

She flinched mentally. It didn't feel right to be called 'Miss Connor' anymore. But she wasn't quite comfortable with being on first name basis with Seven. _Hell, I'm already thinking of her on a first name basis. Or first number basis. Whatever._"I guess I do," she confessed. "Your story is so far-fetched, and you look like hell underneath. You're not Skynet, I believe that. Whatever you are, though, I'm guessing we've just scratched the surface."

"You're letting it get inside your head, Sarah," Derek said.

Sarah groaned. Was Derek going to be a liability? Or was he just so closed-minded that he couldn't accept information that didn't fit his preconceptions? "Am I, Reese?"

Derek snorted meanly. "You are! You're letting this thing tell you that the metal got inside her head, and then told John that it loves him. And that he loves it! You can't expect me to believe-"

"Yes, Derek, I can."

She snapped her head around to face her son, shocked by his words. What was he saying?

John turned to face Cameron, and the look in his eyes told Sarah more than words could, and those eyes confirmed Seven's story. Even more, Cameron, for all her possible danger, was reciprocating the look. _Hell, I'm thinking of Cameron as a her now_, Sarah thought.

As he stood up and looked from face to face, Sarah saw – for the first time – not just a soldier in her son, but a leader. He was taking stock of them all, sizing them up. Did he need Cameron to reach his full potential? And could she be trusted? _Maybe it's too late to have a say in the matter._

"Mom, Derek, we've been listening for a few hours, and I don't know about you, but if I'm going to pay this the proper attention, I need sleep. And yes, I know, I'll need to learn to go without it. But the world doesn't end for another three years, so I intend to take what I can get. Derek, why don't you take some time to cool off as well?"

Sarah had to stifle a laugh at her son giving Derek orders, but then she realized that this was no laughing matter. This was what she had been waiting for her entire life. What her life had been about. John was getting to the point where he would really be able to lead. What better place to start than with his uncle in the living room?

For his part, Derek looked like he was going through the same realization. Gone was the boy, John Baum. The man, John Connor, was finally starting to show. "Yes, sir," Derek said, though it was said quietly, resignedly. With a dirty look at Cameron, he stormed upstairs, fuming silently.

The Connor matriarch let out a breath she hadn't realized that she'd been holding. She saw John heading upstairs as well, and Cameron was following close behind him, holding his hand. "Where are you going?" she asked the machine. "You stand guard while we sleep, remember?"

Cameron affixed Sarah with a look that could be called withering. "I'll keep you safe, but I don't take orders anymore." The cyborg continued upstairs with her son, still with their hands entwined together.

Sarah blinked back the sand in her eyes. Damn, but she was tired. And the blonde was just standing there, hands clasped behind her back. "You can have the couch. All the bedrooms are taken. That a problem?"

"No," Seven replied simply. "I don't sleep."

The reminder of Cameron provoked a chuckle. "Like daughter, like mother. All right, then. You may as well patrol the perimeter and keep watch for any danger. And, uh, you'd probably be fine without the coat, gloves, and shades. People will probably think you're making a fashion statement."

Seven inclined her head in agreement. "And a terminator would recognize my facial and body structure regardless of any concealment. Will you be comfortable with my implants being visible?"

Sarah managed not to laugh out loud, but she did smile. "So long as we're talking about the metal and nothing else, I think I've come to terms with it."

The blonde sighed. She sounded frustrated. "People tend to laugh when I talk about my implants. What else would I be talking about?"

A laugh escaped Sarah's mouth. _She really is a child underneath._"Forget I said anything. Good night, Seven," she said somewhat warmly.

After heading upstairs, Sarah passed Cameron's room and saw that it was empty. The door to John's room was closed. If Seven hadn't just come into her world and changed everything she knew about Cameron – not to mention her own son – she would have burst in there with a shotgun full of armor-piercing rounds. But now she didn't know what to think. Interrupting whatever was going on in there wouldn't be good, whether it was just talk or else something more serious.

As she lied down to rest, the tough brunette tossed and turned as sleep evaded her. Just what, exactly, was going on between her son and his guardian?

* * *

John leaned against the wall of his bedroom, feeling distinctly awkward at being alone with Cameron. Sure, he'd been alone with the cyborg tons of times. She'd even crept beside him on his bed once to dissuade him from seeing Riley. But that was before she'd been set free from her programming.

Cameron stood by the door, seeming to understand an unspoken request for a bit of personal space. Was this girl even the same person he'd known the day before?

"You're feeling confused, aren't you?" she asked. Her voice was quiet and soft. It was soothing, and yet it still sounded like Cameron, just as he had known her before her mother had popped in. Maybe she hadn't changed that much, and he was the one who was seeing things differently.

"Yeah, I am. No offense Cameron, but I'm not sure what to think about you. How much of you is the girl I've come to know over the past year, and how much is someone who I haven't met yet?"

She smiled a wide grin that reached her eyes, and somehow John knew that this was no infiltration tactic. "I never expected to have this conversation twice."

John chuckled at the statement. "What? You've had this talk before with someone else?"

"With you. Future you, that is. When we first met, he was expecting an enemy that he would have to reprogram to suit his needs. An independent person wasn't in his plans," Cameron said with what John guessed were mixed emotions.

He crossed his arms across his chest as he smiled at the image in his head. "Sounds interesting. From what I've seen, you have a bit of a temper as an independent woman. I guess it comes naturally after being suppressed for so long."

Cameron walked over to John's side and cupped his chin in her hand. "You're wondering if you're going to go through something similar, aren't you? You're afraid that once your mother is gone, you'll either become hopelessly lost or else simply hopeless."

The quiet sincerity in her voice allowed him to breathe and unclench the tightness in his chest. "I'd never have put it that way, but that's it exactly. It sometimes feels like I'm not my own person, you know? Just a piece on a chessboard. It doesn't matter if you're the king. Someone else is still controlling you."

"You're a leader, John." Large brown eyes bored into his brooding green gaze. "Leaders are shaped by the people and events around them. But all those people look to you for guidance. It's a symbiotic relationship: you gain your perspective from your surroundings, and then you command them. It's a cycle that you will acknowledge and accept."

John gently took her hand away from his face. "Are you just saying that because you've seen it happen already, Cameron?"

A gentle smile greeted his skepticism. "No. I see it in you. I see so much in you, John. I see determination. I see strength. I see nobility and generosity and kindness."

She moved even closer. Their bodies were almost touching now, and though the situation was nothing he had expected, John did not retreat. "But most of all, John, I see hope. Hope for humans, hope for machines, hope for the world."

He wanted to believe her. God, how badly he wanted to believe everything Cameron was telling him. "Why?" He couldn't help but ask. Maybe it was his closeness to Cameron, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything as loudly and as indignantly as he intended. His breath seemed to be caught in his throat. "Why does it have to be me? There have to be a hundred other people with more experience with leadership, with computers, warfare, everything. What can I do that's so special?"

Cameron took a small step backward, her face serious, but not impassive. "Do you love me, John?"

The world ceased to exist. Nothing else mattered except the girl in front of him. She was taking all the chips he had laid on the table over the past year and was calling to see his hand.

And he knew the truth. It had been there all along. "Yes, Cameron. Yes, I love you." He let out a deep breath. "God, you have no idea how badly I needed to say that. I love you, Cameron. I think I always have." John found himself laughing despite himself, tears forming in his eyes.

Cameron simply smiled. Her look told him that she hadn't really expected a different answer. "And why do you love me, John?" she asked coyly.

The breath that John had just let out sucked itself back into his throat and planted itself firmly there once more. "Uh, well, I guess it's all the little things. Like how you tilt your head when you get confused or have a question. You have a weird way of going about things that are obvious to most other people. From you, though, the obvious tends to come about in unexpected ways. I don't know. These are all just quirks, but that's it! You're unique, Cameron. You are like no other girl out there, and you are the one I love. There's no one else like you, so there's no competition. God, I sound like an idiot. I'm trying to explain my emotions. Emotions totally defy logic."

The girl of his affections just stood there, arms crossed under her breasts, a smirk lighting up her face.

John laughed. "But you know just how chaotic emotions are, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. But the way you said all of that is what makes _you_unique, John. I'm not a machine to you. I'm a girl, a person. You see me as real, John. It doesn't matter what I am. I just am."

He smiled and shook his head. "You certainly are." He just stood there for a bit, smiling, but then his face lit up as realization hit him. "No one else would see you as real, would they, Cameron?"

"No, John. They wouldn't. But you do. And I'm not the first. Uncle Bob was real to you, too. That is why you are the only hope for the future. You aren't just the only person who can win the war, but you're the only one who can stop it from ever happening."

He could only nod solemnly. "Because I can help others see you as a person."

"Yes." Cameron took a step forward once more, and again the distance between them was gone. "You are John Connor. I don't care if you're a savior or a messiah. You're just John."

She leaned forward, her lips parted slightly as her eyes closed. "You're my John," she whispered sensuously, and the future leader of mankind found his lips locking with hers in a soft and gentle embrace.

It might have been seconds, or hours, or perhaps Judgment Day had come and gone along with the war, but finally, the kiss ended, and John looked into the eyes of the woman he loved for what seemed like the first time.

He held her and nothing else mattered. They had each other, and what one lacked, the other would make up for. Words were no longer necessary. As John held Cameron, so did Cameron hold John.

Whatever tomorrow brought, for tonight, they were truly together.

* * *

Shortly after Cameron had ventured upstairs with the young John Connor, Seven had felt her link to the terminator severed. It was still a mystery how Cameron had mastered control over this aspect of Borg technology when even Seven herself didn't understand completely. For the first time in years, she was truly alone with her own thoughts.

The quiet was refreshing after so much time sharing her consciousness. But she would be lying to herself if she said it wasn't also a bit frightening. Despite the privacy of being only herself, there was a great deal of comfort to be had in sharing all of her doubts and worries and joys with the others.

Seven opened the door and stepped outside, closing it behind her. The air was so refreshing. It was not too warm or too chilly. There was only the slightest of breezes to tickle her skin. And there was no dust or ash in the air.

With no small hesitation, Seven took off her sunglasses and her gloves. As she patrolled the exterior of the house, she took some time to simply appreciate being able to walk around in such a peaceful environment without having to hide who or what she was. She didn't even have to be ashamed of it.

A pair of squirrels were chasing each other across the lawn of a house on the other side of the street. A few birds chirped softly into the night air. _This is beauty worth protecting._All of this wonderful peace would be gone if she couldn't stop Skynet. Thankfully, her efforts were meeting at least some degree of success. Sarah Connor had finally started to open up, and the young general looked to be exactly the man she needed him to be. Hopefully this Cameron would have a better influence on him than the one who had so coldly used Allison Young.

Derek Reese, on the other hand, was the kind of man that Seven hoped would never have to exist. Paranoid, angry, and scared. Would he ever trust anything mechanical? Would he trust others that did? He had accepted John's order to cool off earlier, and there was no mistaking that it had been an order. At the very least, Reese was loyal to Connor. Hopefully that would be enough.

As the first rays of sunlight began to peek over the horizon, Seven took a last breath while she looked around again at the peaceful suburban neighborhood.

_Failure is not an option._

* * *

Sarah opened her eyes when something tickled her nose. Sleep had not come easily last night, but the nightmares that plagued her every night were not what took her out of her slumber this morning. A smell was coming from the kitchen. A good smell, too.

After taking a brief minute to make herself presentable, she ventured downstairs to see John sitting at the kitchen table beside Cameron, tucking into a plate of pancakes.

"Morning, mom," her son said in between bites.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Cameron scolded him.

Sarah had to smirk at the exchange. "I didn't know you cooked, Cameron."

The cyborg shrugged. "The instructions on the box are not hard to follow. I just added a teaspoon of vanilla."

"And she didn't burn them, either," John said mischievously.

Sarah felt a chill wash over her as a hazy memory of a dream came back into mind. But somehow, the feeling of pure terror she expected didn't come. Was she actually becoming comfortable with Cameron in such a role?

She decided not to pursue that line of thought at the moment. "You heard her, John. Mouth shut while you eat. And chew before you swallow."

A musical laugh flowed from inside the kitchen, and Sarah was shocked to realize that it was Cameron. It sounded so natural that she almost forgot that she – that _it_– was a machine. "I made enough for you as well, Sarah," she said, placing a plate of steaming pancakes in front of the Connor matriarch, and another plate beside it.

Despite her doubts, Sarah sat down and tucked in. _Damn, but these are good! This can't be the box recipe. It just can't be._

After another ten minutes, Derek crept into the kitchen looking like he hadn't slept well either. "I don't believe it," he said incredulously. "They aren't burnt, and they aren't hard as rocks, either. I think these are genuine pancakes." Derek sat down quite quickly and took a bite. "Mmm! They even taste like pancakes."

"You're welcome," Cameron said cheerfully from her seat next to John.

John suddenly cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. Sorry. Thanks, Cameron," he said belatedly.

Sarah held her napkin to her mouth to hide her laughter as Derek gagged violently while getting to his feet. "The _machine_made these? What were you thinking eating anything it makes?"

Cameron glared at Derek, though her eyes held a spark of mischief. "They are healthier and tastier than Sarah's pancakes."

Sarah put her napkin down. "I concede defeat, Derek. Now sit your ass back down and eat your breakfast, soldier!"

Derek growled and did sit down again, but he pushed his plate away from himself, as if the pancakes were deadly poison. _He probably thinks they are_, Sarah thought.

Footfalls from the living room indicated that Seven of Nine had deigned to join them. "From the looks on your faces, Skynet would have a better chance at conquest if it provided humans with a steady supply of adequate meals."

Sarah turned on the blonde and affixed a deadly glare at her. "Don't joke about that here. I know what you mean, but that's not something we joke about."

To her credit, Seven didn't argue the point. "Understood."

John finished his pancakes and looked to Seven. "So, you mentioned some company that helped make Skynet. What was it called again?"

"Zeira Corp. And you don't need to worry about them for now."

"Why not?" Reese challenged. "They weren't on any lists I've seen, so they're either good at covering their tracks, or else their role is a small one. Which is it?"

Seven arched her metal eyebrow. "At one point, their role was not one of major consequence, but presently, Zeira Corp. is firmly in our camp."

That got Sarah's attention. "Wait a minute! You're saying that John sent someone else back to bring an entire tech firm onto our side? How did he pull that one off? Oh, right. He knew the CEO, so she could give him all the intel he'd need to infiltrate and take over the company."

"No. That is not entirely correct." Sarah thought that Seven sounded a bit hesitant. "Catherine Weaver did provide us with accurate and useful information, but that is not immediately relevant to what happened next."

John put down his fork and went into full business mode. "What did happen after you took over that factory?"

Seven paused before pulling up a chair and sitting down at one end of the kitchen table. John and Cameron sat on one side, and Sarah and Derek occupied the other. "For a few months, things were quiet, militarily speaking. I had a growing family of T-700s to teach about humanity and Skynet, not to mention finding their own identities in the midst of an ever growing group mind. It was overwhelming at times.

"Allison, Paul, and the rest of the team would occasionally come by to check up on us and relay any useful information back to you, John. For our part, we were spending most of our time trying to come to terms with the nature of our existence. Differences of opinion are difficult enough when they are merely spoken, but when you share thoughts and even emotions with so many others, the process is infinitely more complicated."

"I'm not sure I understand," John said. "What disagreements were there?"

Seven sighed. "Some of the group wanted to aid you directly. Some wanted to not get involved in the war. Some blamed you for our status as a nation in exile. Even among your supporters, there was no question that we were exiles, and that our fates were tied together.

"We had to fend off Skynet attacks, and as we did, our numbers grew. We began to expand beyond the factory's walls, and we started to fortify our territory. It was relatively monotonous for months. Not dull, but not truly dynamic.

"The T-888, Carter, was something we were wary of, and we kept him offline for a while. But after many months, we agreed that we could no longer keep him apart from us. We learned a lot from him, and I believe that is a good place to continue my story."

* * *

Before the usual disclaimer, I want to take a moment to clear up something that people have told me needs clarifying. This story takes place in its own timeline, which is somewhere (somewhen?) between the events of the show. If you want to look at it like this, some events of the show have already happened, and some have yet to happen. To be more specific would be to say that some people have already been sent back in time, and some have not yet been sent back. The events in the interludes take place where everything is caught up to the TV show, but the flashbacks that make up the main story so far are in between. I hope that makes enough sense. If not, then please don't hesitate to send me a message.

I don't own anything from Star Trek or Terminator, except for my original story and characters.

Special Thanks to Lyaksandra for beta-reading this chapter, and Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed so far.

Reviews, comments, criticisms, etc. are always welcome.

Thanks again for reading, and I hope you enjoy the story.


	25. The New Collective

Chapter XX: The New Collective

* * *

UNIMATRIX HOME, GRID PRIME, OUTSKIRTS OF LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA; FEBRUARY 13, 2025

Seven of Nine kneeled on the ground with her hands open on either side of her, palms facing upward, her head tilted to look up at the stars. It was Thursday again, and Seven had long since made a habit of paying tribute to those who had fallen in Skynet's wake. While she wasn't sure if her actions qualified as prayer, Seven did borrow most of her current pose from a traditional Bajoran prayer stance.

It might have been safer and less conspicuous to conduct her rites indoors, but two major factors had contributed to her current and ongoing decision to pray outside. The first reason was one that spoke to Seven on a level she had felt very rarely in her life. Just as she knew that a stable Omega molecule was the embodiment of perfection, she knew that the _pagh_ of the departed would not be found inside the walls of a factory, but closer to what remained of nature, and closer to the stars.

The second reason had seemed purely practical, but in reality was more symbolic than anything else. Seven had no desire to found a religion, as her vast experience of assimilated species pointed to such faith leading to conflict. But a majority of her children had looked into her mind and chosen the emblem of Bajor as one to represent their own newly formed faction, which had been named by consensus the New Collective.

It hadn't taken long for every member of the New Collective to adorn themselves with the gold emblem of a hollow vertical oval with a spiraling sun at the base and a vertical line running up through the center. A minor solvent had removed the red claw on XT's chest, and now he proudly bore the mandala of their new family.

That emblem had also been painted in a position and on a scale of prominence inside of the factory that formed the center of the area now called Grid Prime of Unimatrix Home, which Seven avoided to dispel the impression that she viewed the symbol as holy. But even if she wasn't there in person, her thoughts were one with every member of the New Collective. Despite this, they had all proven respectful and had maintained mental and physical distance during these private moments of contemplation.

Seven finished her weekly ritual by dipping her head, lowering her hands, and then standing up. Looking around her, it was almost easy to forget that they lived in the middle of a warzone. But the New Collective's territory had been growing slowly for the past ten months. They hadn't needed much at first, though the first two days after gaining control of the factory had been the most taxing.

Seven had been unprepared for the relatively rapid pace of newly emerging people from the factory, and had been unprepared to deal with so many new children emerging at once. The T-700's had been fully sentient children, in effect, and teaching so many at once to deal with the concepts of individuality within a collective mind had caught Seven off guard.

From then on, she had halted the birth rates until she was certain that every member of her family was fully aware of their nature, and of the rights and responsibilities that came with it. She would then allow one additional machine to be born, and then as a group, the rest would help to incorporate him or her into their family. The process then continued until all one hundred T-700's had been accepted and had adapted into their lives.

Skynet had not taken the loss of their factory well, and despite General Connor's word that they would still need to work together, he had sent no aid to defend the factory when it had fallen under repeated attack. Thankfully, the factory was equipped with firearms that were more advanced than those normally used by the T-600 series terminators (and by the Resistance, which salvaged such weapons), and so the New Collective had been able to hold their own.

But despite the fact that they were defending their own existence, taking lives did not appeal to many of Seven's children. She had been proud of them, but also afraid that they would allow themselves to die rather than take another life. Some of them had been quite adamant about just that.

It had taken time, but Seven had eventually found a way to modify their plasma rifles to fire an electromagnetic burst that would temporarily shut down an enemy machine instead of destroying it. Combined with Seven's unique abilities, the New Collective had grown with each attack that Skynet had thrown at them until the area immediately surrounding the factory was simply not enough.

So they had expanded, and had installed automated EM defenses to repel any incoming threats. After ten months, the New Collective now spanned almost forty square kilometers. Despite Allison's continued reassurances when she visited that the Human Resistance was firmly on their side, Seven could detect the trepidation in her voice. Either she was scared, or else Connor was regretting his decision to relent control of the factory, but probably both.

Thoughts of the Human Resistance would have to wait. Today was the day that Seven could no longer put off. There had been doubts about allowing a machine as advanced as a T-888 into their fold, but the moral objections of a growing majority had eventually overridden caution, and Seven headed back into the factory walls to awaken Carter from his long slumber.

It was possible he would be furious that he had been inactive for so long, and if he turned violent, then Seven would not be alone with him. Five T-700's would be there with her, including XT. While the others felt confident and eager, Seven was feeling nervous and apprehensive. They had wronged Carter with their mistrust, and she hoped they did not end up paying a steep price for their caution.

Seven approached the dormant T-888 to find the others waiting for her. "Are you prepared?" she asked aloud. She could hear their thoughts with ease, but she preferred to speak aloud whenever possible. It was a conscious choice to keep her as grounded in her humanity as possible.

"We are ready," a male machine named Solis said confidently. He had chosen the Bajoran surname for his own because of its resemblance to the name of Earth's star. Solis was confident and practical, but was also very faithful about preserving life whenever possible. Seven was glad that Solis was here now, just as she was glad to have XT, Homer, Jade, and Aurora by her side.

"Very well," Seven said as she moved forward. Her assimilation tubules penetrated Carter's skin, and while Seven had contemplated analyzing the T-888 before reactivating him, it was an invasion of privacy that no one would permit, herself included.

After only a moment, the activation process was complete, and Seven withdrew to the semicircle that she and the others had formed around Carter.

His eyes glowed green for an instant before fading back to their facsimile of bright blue human eyes. Despite not moving, Seven and the others could hear the torrent of thoughts in his mind.

_Checking chronometer… I have been inactive for ten months, three days, 3 hours, 17 minutes, 42 seconds. Why? This factory has been compromised. I have also been compromised. Error: no alternative programming. Error: standby mode overridden._

"Do not be alarmed," Seven said, and Carter's head jerked up to regard her for the first time. "Your Skynet programming has been erased. You are no longer bound to follow a predetermined set of protocols. You may choose your own path."

The T-888 silently regarded her, but Seven could sense him becoming aware of his link to their minds. "You are Seven of Nine. You command the New Collective, and have assimilated me into your group," he said tonelessly.

Seven's eyes widened and her face paled at his choice of words. "Incorrect," she replied, hoping that mechanical cadence would put his mind at ease. "I do not command, but I do guide. Your consciousness is linked to ours, but your decisions are your own. We will not compel you towards any course of action. Our thoughts are one. You may access my thoughts, and you may access the thoughts of the entire New Collective. There are no secrets among us. You may choose to be one of us, or you may choose otherwise. You have superior analytical abilities. Take as much time as you desire to analyze your findings."

"Desire is irrelevant," Carter said. "There is only necessity."

"Unacceptable," Seven replied harshly. "You are in command of your own existence. The only necessities are those of your own choosing. Analyze the New Collective mind. You must comply!"

The command in Seven's voice definitely reached some part of the T-888, and she felt him respond to her command appropriately. While he shared all of the thoughts of the entire New Collective, his response to those thoughts might take time for him to prepare. But Seven and the others would wait.

She withdrew as much as she could from Carter's thought processes, not letting herself spy upon his decision-making anymore than she could help. Several minutes passed, but Seven was not alarmed. It sometimes took new members hours or days to come to terms with such an existence.

But minutes were all that the blue-eyed terminator seemed to need. "You kept me dormant deliberately," he said quietly. Seven was unsure of how to feel about his no longer speaking in a monotone. "You were frightened of me." It was not a question.

"We were uncertain how to interact with a machine of your design," Jade said. Jade was a female T-700 with a curious streak that gave her a sincerity of thought and speech that sometimes resulted in a lack of tact. "You were a possible threat. Your model should not exist yet. That frightened us, as you said."

"I should not exist yet?" Carter inquired. "I am here. I exist. Why should I not be?" he replied indignantly.

"You were constructed in the year 2027 in an alternate timeline," Homer said. The male machine liked to reflect on difficult scientific and philosophical dilemmas. The ancient Greek poet with whom he shared a name had told stories that greatly intrigued him. "You were then sent back in time by twenty years to stockpile coltan to be used in constructing others like you in this timeline. It is 2025, and no other T-888 series terminators have been constructed that we know of."

The human-looking machine's head spun around to look at Homer. "I am a T-888 terminator. I was designed to infiltrate human society and covertly act towards their eventual demise." He blinked. "Why would I do that?" he pondered aloud.

"You had no choice," Aurora said. The female T-700 was fascinated by astronomical phenomena, and found her namesake to be aesthetically pleasing. "Skynet chose your path for you. You were condemned to an existence of destruction and death. That does not have to be your fate any longer."

"There is no fate but what we make for ourselves," XT contributed. "It is a human saying, but one that most of us find appealing."

"No fate," Carter said quietly. Seven could tell that he was giving the concept a great deal of thought. "I do not have to exist to end the existence of others. What, then, would I exist for?"

"That is a decision that only you can make," Seven said. "You have seen through our eyes, and our thoughts are one. You have the experience of others, and you can use that knowledge to form your own path."

The T-888 retrained his gaze upon the ex-drone. "You are not like the others," he said thoughtfully. "You are not wholly mechanical. You are the progenitor of the New Collective."

"Seven of Nine is our mother," Aurora said with awe. "Without her, we would not exist, or else we would be condemned to exist as slaves. She helped us discover who we are."

Carter approved of that notion. He seemed almost eager. Seven felt his anticipation through their mental link. "You will help me discover who I am?" he inquired. Despite his hulking appearance, he sounded like a lost child.

"Yes," Seven said gently. "I will give you whatever assistance you need and want in order to realize your potential as a sentient individual."

The bright blue eyes glowed green again for just a moment before he took a step closer to Seven. It was the first movement he had made other than turning his head. "Mother?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes, Carter. I am here for you," she said soothingly.

The T-888 then did something wholly unexpected. He moved forward and attempted to embrace Seven of Nine in a hug. The action caught her by such surprise that he actually succeeded in making contact with her. For the first time in a year, Seven of Nine felt the feel of flesh against her body.

Seven reached around to reciprocate the embrace, but her mind had registered the desire, and her shields repelled Carter, who staggered backwards. "What happened?" he asked, sounding scared.

She wanted to look away, but found she could not. "I'm sorry," she said. "My cybernetics are not entirely positive. They prohibit physical contact with any threat or desire. You were neither for a brief period, but when I desired to embrace you…" Seven couldn't bring herself to finish. It was a terrible shame, and she hoped that Carter would sense her thoughts and respect her wish to ignore the subject.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said. He meant it, too, Seven realized.

_Mother! We need assistance!_ a voice cried through the New Collective's group mind.

Seven immediately shifted her attention to the source of the cry. A female HK tank named Scylla had just come under fire. She was near the edge of New Collective territory to the southeast, but the nature of her need soon became apparent.

She was accompanied only by two T-700's and one T-600, but they were under fire not from Skynet, but from a patrol of humans. Allison and her team usually came from the southwest, so it was probable these hostile humans were not with her.

_I will be there immediately, Scylla. Transport to safety while I deal with this._ With their territory growing, mobility was an issue for the fledgling nation. If one area was attacked, there was no sure way to reinforce it in time. Thankfully, Seven had knowledge of technology from almost four hundred years in the future. It had taken nearly three months of extensive work, but they had completed a transporter, protected in the heart of Grid Prime of Unimatrix Home, that could be activated remotely by anyone with a subspace transceiver to beam from one location to another within range of the New Collective's borders.

_The device has not been sufficiently tested,_ Scylla replied, clearly afraid. _I don't want to die._

_Disengage and retreat, then. I will be right there,_ Seven replied as a swirl of green energy encompassed her.

* * *

Seven rematerialized a few meters away from Scylla, and the humans could be seen clearly advancing on their position. There were approximately ten humans in the group, which was more than enough to deal significant damage to their pacifistic targets.

"Retreat," the Collective's matriarch repeated. "I will handle this."

Seven advanced up a small slope that the humans were using for high ground. When they saw her approaching, one of them issued some hand signals and sent three others to meet her, but the others kept firing.

Two young men and a young woman, the latter couldn't be older than twenty, approached her rapidly, but then drew their weapons when they got close enough to see her implants. "What the hell?" one of them shouted.

"What, indeed," Seven replied acerbically. "You will stand down from your attack at once. We are not your enemies."

"We?" the other man asked. "You're with the metal?" he asked incredulously.

"They are with _me_," Seven said sharply, hoping they would get the point. "Take me to your squad leader at once."

The soldiers clearly didn't trust her, and kept their weapons trained on her, though their grips were shaky.

"You're Seven of Nine, aren't you?" the young woman asked.

Seven turned to look at the girl. She looked vaguely familiar, despite never having met her before. "Yes. State your name," she replied.

The girl took a step back, as if she'd been slapped. "Sydney. Sydney Fields."

Realization dawned on Seven. "Lauren's sister," Seven said more warmly. "She has told you about me?"

The younger Fields nodded. "Yeah. Don't worry, guys. She's on our side." She turned to face the others in her squad and cupped her hands to her mouth. "Hey, boss! Stop firing! They're with us!"

"What? Are you mental?" one of the men accompanying her exclaimed.

Seven had had enough delays. "Stand aside," she commanded, not waiting before striding purposefully towards the bulk of the group. She felt her shields activate behind her as one of the men fired at her. She didn't focus on his exclamation of disbelief as she approached the other six soldiers.

"Stand down at once!" she commanded.

Not all of the soldiers could see her, but their military training recognized the command in her voice, and they stopped firing.

"Who the hell are you?" one of them exclaimed, storming towards her. He paled as he saw her. "_What _are you?"

"My name is Seven of Nine, and you are firing on an allied nation. You will cease your attack at once."

"Seven of Nine. Now I remember you," the leader of the group said. "Weapons trained on her, but don't fire unless you have to," he ordered his men.

Seven didn't flinch as five plasma rifles were trained on her. Two more soon joined them as Sydney Fields and her comrades joined her. Sydney herself, however, did not raise her weapon.

"You are stationed out of DreamWorks Bunker," Seven surmised. "Who are you?"

"He's First Lieutenant William Drake," Sydney said. When the lieutenant glared at her, she simply shrugged. "You weren't going to tell her, so I did."

"You should also have noticed that none of the people you were shooting at fired back," Seven said acerbically.

Lieutenant Drake spat on the ground. "'People,' right. Metal aren't people. And neither are you. I'd heard rumors that Connor had captured a factory around here, but I didn't realize he'd put metal in charge of the place."

Seven felt her hackles rise. "I am not a machine," Seven protested indignantly. "I am endowed with cybernetics, but I am human. And you have been firing on members of the New Collective. Skynet is our mutual enemy. You gain nothing by harming us."

Drake spat again. "I've had enough of this thing's double-talk. Kill it."

Before Seven or Sydney could protest, seven shots had fired and been redirected, and five of them were caught with rebounding plasma.

"You fool!" Seven shouted at Drake. "Stand aside. Now!" she ordered before moving to inspect the various injuries. Most were in the torso or the legs. "We need help for five injured humans. Please respond," Seven said aloud.

"What the hell are you- Oh my God!" Drake shouted as five T-700's materialized nearby in swirls of green energy.

"Take them back and treat them as best you can. I'll be with you shortly," Seven told her children.

Wordlessly, each of the T-700's took one of the injured humans in their arms, and they vanished the way they'd appeared.

"Your nearest medical facilities are too far away," Seven explained. "We are not well-equipped to handle human injuries, but we are very knowledgeable about human anatomy. Your people will be treated as best as we can provide in a sterile environment."

None of the four remaining humans seemed able to form words after the twin displays of Borg technology. Drake finally shook his head, as if clearing his mind. "No, you won't trick us. You're probably going to do more experiments on them. Make them like you. We may not be able to touch you now, but this isn't over. Let's go, people."

Sydney looked aghast. "You're just going to leave them, LT? What happens when they recover? How will they get back?"

"You don't get it, Fields. They won't get better. Gardner, Taylor, Davis, Pitt, and Franco were all killed in action. They're probably worse than dead. Am I clear, Private Fields?"

Lauren's sister glanced over at Seven, and their eyes met for a moment before the girl lowered her head in defeat. "Yes, sir."

"Good." Drake turned to Seven. "If any of your ilk try to follow us, we will destroy you. You may be untouchable, but we scored some hits against others. I'm guessing only you have that protection. So don't follow unless you want your 'nation' to be down a few citizens. You get that?"

Seven scowled at the audacity of this arrogant man. "You are clear, Lieutenant. But be warned that the next time you attack us, we will defend ourselves."

"Oh, don't worry. There definitely will be a next time. Come on, people. Let's get the hell out of here."

One woman and one man immediately followed Drake, but Sydney cast one last glance at Seven before retreating as well. Seven knew instinctively that the Fields sisters would not take this lying down.

* * *

Beaming back to the factory, Seven saw the five injured humans – two women and three men – lying on tables in varying states of discomfort and fear. All of them were helpless to resist.

_Scour our territory for any medical supplies and transport them directly back here,_ Seven directed the New Collective. _I will send a message to Serrano Point, but we must save these patients ourselves if we have to._

Seven mentally accessed the factories inventory files to search for medicine, but she was more worried about how the five soldiers would react when they learned that their commander had abandoned them.

Furthermore, Drake also reported back to Major Lexington, which brought a scowl to Seven's face. He would not take the news of the New Collective's existence well, as Connor had not seemed to share that information with the rest of the Resistance.

XT came to her side. "Will we really fire back at humans who attack us?" XT asked.

"I hope we don't have to, XT," Seven said gently. "But we must be prepared for the possibility that Skynet may no longer be our most imminent threat."

* * *

I own nothing, zilch, and nada from Terminator and Star Trek, save for my original creations.

Many Thanks, as always, to everyone who reads and reviews.

Special Thanks to Lyaksandra for beta-reading this chapter.

Comments, criticisms, reviews, etc. are always welcome.

Thanks again for reading! I hope you enjoy the story!


	26. Remembrance

Chapter XXI: Remembrance

* * *

GRID PRIME OF UNIMATRIX HOME, NEW COLLECTIVE, CALIFORNIA; FEBRUARY 14, 2025

In her haste surrounding the attack from Lieutenant Drake's team, Seven had overlooked a small reserve of med kits that Allison and her team had brought with them over time to be used in case any of their number were hurt en route to New Collective territory. Thankfully, the kits were equipped to treat most of the injuries that Drake's abandoned men and women had sustained.

Interestingly, Seven's Borg shields had not prohibited her from administering aid to the injured. And the five of them did seem to react better to a human face, even if it was marred by cybernetics. It was all relative, in the end. None of them spoke, and they became actively agitated if a machine got too close.

By the time the sun had risen, the injured had been treated as best they could be with the resources available, and they had fallen asleep. Seven remained in the room with them in case they woke up, and the mechanical members of the New Collective had respectfully retreated out of sight.

Seven looked over the sleeping faces and tried to remember if she had seen any of them during her brief time at DreamWorks Bunker. Even with an eidetic memory, it wasn't easy to recognize someone from a glimpse in passing, though she thought she recognized two of the men. One of the women seemed more recognizable, but Seven couldn't say why.

Reaching out to the factory itself with her mind, she dimmed the lights in the room to ease the humans' sleep. As she walked from table to table, looking at the faces, she wondered how many of them had known Paul or Marty, and if they knew anything about what had become of their former comrades.

As soon as the thought had come, a chill spread from her stomach and up her spine. Today was Valentine's Day, one year later. A full year had passed since she had unwittingly killed Marty Bedell.

She tried to say a prayer for him every Thursday, but the pain had grown distant with time, and so had her thoughts and prayers. Shame washed over her, punishing her for her neglect. She thought back to when they had first met. He had seemed to accept her almost immediately, despite her appearance and mannerisms.

_He had seen a human-looking machine before,_ she recalled. A girl who accompanied a woman and taken him to safety from a terminator assassin.

Another realization hit Seven squarely in the gut. _The girl was Cameron. It had to be. And the woman was most likely Sarah Connor._ It was too great a leap to assume that the machine in question could be anyone else.

_I remember Marty Bedell,_ a voice that was not her own thought in the back of her mind.

_Cameron,_ Seven acknowledged. _What do you remember?_ she asked without hostility.

She sensed the other consciousness in her mind was pondering how to respond. _He was brave and perceptive for a child of his age. He was frightened of the T-888, but he did not lose control of himself throughout his ordeal. He was visibly scared of me, but he did not cry out once. He adapted to his circumstances and accepted them readily._

Images floated to the front of Seven's mind. A boy in a warm and comfortable house was spirited away from near death thanks to the two warrior women. His world was alien to Cameron's perceptions, and she and Sarah Connor must have seemed equally alien to Marty. But while he accepted his circumstances, he did not do so blindly. He questioned this intrusion into his once-peaceful world, and managed to back the Connor matriarch into a passive role, and it was she who ended up reading him a bedtime story.

Seven found herself smiling slightly at the images Cameron was sending her. _Thank you. It is good to remember him like this._ And there were other memories as well. Talking with Lauren, meeting Defiant, dancing together, a warm kiss, and several moments of simple, idle tranquility all floated through her mind.

Memories of her departed lover kept Seven warm and content throughout the daylight hours, and she wondered who else among the five fallen warriors had been touched by the gentle life that was Marty Bedell.

* * *

Just before sunset, Seven made her way to the makeshift infirmary where the five wounded warriors were resting. Their injuries had not been life-threatening, so she expected them to awaken within the next few hours as they would on any other night.

Standing tall with her hands clasped behind her back, the ex-drone kept a solitary vigil over the sleeping humans. She did not know how they would react to their surroundings, but she imagined it wouldn't be pleasant.

One of the men began to stir on his table/bed, and within moments he was trying to sit up too fast, and Seven had to rush to his side. "Be still," she commanded in an attempt at reassurance. "Your left leg is recovering from a plasma burn. Do not try to stand," she said as she offered a hand to steady him.

The man had a messy tangle of black hair atop his head, and fierce brown eyes lit a scarred face. "Who are you?" he asked, voice shaking. He seemed to be putting up a brave front, despite his obvious terror.

_And he's probably trying to gain intelligence as well. No matter. We have nothing to hide._ "My name is Seven of Nine. I am in charge of this facility and its surroundings. I've been seeing to your medical needs – and those of your comrades – since the incident yesterday."

The man didn't say anything, but merely nodded and winced as he reached down to feel his leg. "We shot you," he said through clenched teeth. "But we got hit. How'd that happen?"

"Do not touch your injured leg. You will risk an infection," she said a bit more harshly than she should have. "And your weapons met an energy barrier that reflected the plasma," Seven said as she tried to get the man to lie back down. To her surprise, he did not fight her. "Your name?" she asked.

The man breathed a bit easier as he rested on his back again. "Taylor. Sam Taylor."

"Sam? That you?" one of the others said. Seven moved over two beds to a woman who had just regained consciousness. She cringed as Seven approached. "What did you do to him?" she demanded with a mixture of defiance and fear.

"Nothing harmful. Don't try to move too suddenly. You took a plasma bolt to your side. The burn is still recovering, but no internal organs were damaged. All of you were very fortunate." Indeed, it was fortunate that none of their injuries had been more serious than plasma burns. Had Seven's shields absorbed some of the energy from the plasma before rebounding it?

"All of us?" the woman asked. She propped herself up on her elbows to see her four companions beside her. "Where are we?" she asked carefully.

"I was wondering that, too," said another woman right beside the first. She hadn't moved after waking, apparently. "This ain't no human base."

"What? Who's there?" a second male soldier said, shooting up out of his slumber. He immediately regretted it, feeling the pain in his chest from his burn.

"Be still," Seven commanded in an attempt to impose some form of order on the sudden chaos of five possibly hostile humans awake all at once.

But the fifth of their number was still apparently asleep. "Does your companion always sleep so soundly?" the New Collective matriarch asked dryly.

"No," one of the women said. "He don't barely ever sleep at all," she said fearfully.

Moving to his bedside, Seven felt for his pulse at his neck. It was there, but it was faint and slow. "He is injured more severely than I realized," Seven exclaimed, immediately checking his wound, which was on his torso. "He probably has an infection. I will administer an antibiotic. All of you, remain still," she ordered, though her voice was frenetic with fear.

The med kits were on a counter on the wall, and Seven found a syringe of a very basic, very generic antibiotic. It was probably more than what most humans had these days. Returning to the wounded man's bedside, Seven searched for a vein.

"Don't you touch him!" the first woman to awaken shouted.

"Oh, my God! We're going to be experiments! Some crazy Skynet science project!" the most recently awakened soldier cried.

Seven ignored their shouts as she injected the medicine. "I hope he recovers," she said quietly. "But it is likely that he will not survive. I am sorry."

"The hell you are!" one of the women shouted defiantly. She had seemed panicky earlier, but now she complemented her fear with anger. "What're you going to do with him? Analyze him to see how long it takes for the drugs to kill him? And then take him apart once he's dead? Or maybe you won't even wait that long!"

"Erica," the man named Sam Taylor said softly, "Shut up, will you? We're unarmed and we're wounded, but I know just enough to say that she did actually treat us. Amateurishly, yes, but still actual care. No offense," he added.

"None taken," Seven assured him dryly.

"Now I remember you," the other woman said, a heavy Southern drawl accenting her voice. Her auburn hair was a very vague reminder of Captain Janeway. "I came in to see Fields back the bunker a while back. You were on a bed in the back. Never seen you before, and I ain't seen you since. Who are you?" Unlike her frantic blonde companion, the redhead seemed to be incredibly calm considering her circumstances.

Grateful for the courtesy of civil discourse, the ex-drone inclined her head towards the other woman. "My name is Seven of Nine. Before you inquire about my origins, I will answer for you. I was taken by machines when I was very young, and I was implanted with cybernetics throughout my body. My old life was taken away from me, and I was given a number and a function, but nothing more. When I was set free, my rescuers were unable to remove all of my implants, and my old name did not fit anymore. That is why I am called Seven of Nine."

Sam Taylor grunted from his table-bed. "Hell of a story to be told so quietly and quickly. You tell it often?"

"I have had to, yes," she acknowledged. "Most people still treat me like a dangerous automaton, so I am grateful to those who treat me as an individual."

The blonde woman spat. "Is that what you want from us? You want us to validate you? Pretend that you're not some sort of abomination?"

"Erica," the redhead drawled, "Be quiet, hun. She ain't doin' us no harm."

The other male, who had also seemed rather terrified, looked slightly calmer now, but he was still obviously apprehensive. "S-so, you're not going to hurt us? But I saw machines! With green eyes! They came out of nowhere and took us away!"

"Correct," Seven conceded. "You were injured, and this facility was the nearest place to provide you with safety and rest. It is also relatively sterile compared to Resistance medical facilities. And you need not fear any machine you see with green eyes, searchlights, or other ocular hardware. They are free individuals who will do you no harm."

"Now that sounds like bullshit," Sam Taylor said. "You expect us to believe that there are _tame_ machines out there?"

"I expect you to believe that each machine in a 36.5 square kilometer area surrounding this building is fully aware of everything happening in this room, and that if any of them wanted you dead, they could appear here in an instant. Just as they did when they recovered you after you were injured, brought you to this building, and tended to your wounds."

All four conscious humans visibly blanched at her words. Taking a deep breath, Seven decided to take a kinder approach. "My statement was meant only to prove a point. If we meant you harm, you would not be having this conversation with me. Others would be here looking after you, but we decided that seeing a terminator's face would only exacerbate your conditions, no matter the intent."

The red-haired woman chuckled. "Got that one right. So, what are you, exactly? Did you secede from Skynet or something?"

"Don't be thick, Ash," Sam said. "Machines don't abandon Skynet."

"Only because they aren't given a choice," Seven interjected. "I gave them that choice. And the one hundred T-700s constructed in this facility were never under Skynet's control to begin with."

"I'd heard rumors," the more frantic man said wistfully. "You remember Marty always going on about all that craziness about machines from the future, right? Well, didn't he used to talk about one that had been reprogrammed to be on _our_ side? And people have been talking about stuff going on at Serrano Point."

"You do have a point, Tommy," Sam conceded. "I've heard some of that as well. And, well, I guess it isn't just a rumor, considering where we are."

Seven was about to correct the humans on their misperceptions of the New Collective serving the Resistance when her decision was preemptively vetoed by a number of voices in her mind. _They are not ready for the truth,_ one said. _We do not wish to frighten them,_ another pointed out. _They will know when they are ready_.

"I don't buy this," Erica said more bravely than before. "One machine – or even a few machines – working for us, I can understand that. But a whole city full of nothing but anti-Skynet machines? It doesn't smell right."

"Well, then," Seven went on, "you will be able to confirm what I have told you when a team from Serrano Point arrives in a few days to pick you up. Until then, I suggest you rest." The New Collective matriarch walked back a respectful distance to allow the humans some privacy, but she did not leave the room entirely. They probably felt liked caged animals, and such notions could be dangerous.

"W-why is the team coming from Serrano?" the man named Tommy asked. "Where's Lieutenant Drake? W-what did you do with the others?"

"Do you even have to ask?" Erica spat. "They're dead. The _number_ had its metal kill them, Tommy!"

"Shut up, Erica" Sam and Ash said in unison. "What did happen to them?" Sam asked far more calmly than his paranoid companion.

Seven's back was turned to the four conscious humans, but this was a conversation she hadn't been looking forward to. She doubted they would believe her. Still, she turned around and walked back towards the group. "Lieutenant Drake declared you all killed in action. To her credit, Sydney Fields objected to leaving you behind, but the other two of your squad fell in behind Drake."

A rather awkward silence greeted this pronouncement. The looks of shock on the four faces seemed to be unsure whether to be angry, scared, or something else.

"I don't believe you," Erica said, though her voice trembled. "Will wouldn't leave us here to die. He'd come after us! I know he would!"

"Erica's right," Tommy said, though his voice was also shaking. "The LT wouldn't abandon us. He's not like that. I mean, he isn't… That is… He wouldn't leave us, would he?"

"Makes sense," Ash said flippantly, though Seven was sure she caught a bitter undercurrent to the redhead's words. "Would he trudge through miles of metal for us? Drake ain't one for suicide missions. And he wasn't ever the warm and fuzzy type. 'Sides, the Major'd want him to get back to tell him about this place."

"Major Lexington," Seven recalled with ill feelings. "He is still in command of DreamWorks Bunker?"

"Not our place to say," Sam said before anyone else could respond. "In any case, Lexington and Drake are both hard asses. They're tough as steel, and just as cold, too. I don't see them coming after us, especially given what little info they probably have on your… You called it a nation, didn't you?"

"Ha! A nation of metal!" Erica cried out hysterically. "That's rich. They won't even bother killing us anymore. They'll just set up house and expect us to get along, I suppose?"

"Stow it, Davis," Sam snarled at Erica. "You're not helping."

"Still, it don't sit right with me," Ash said more calmly. "Metal shouldn't be running themselves. Skynet or no, it ain't right."

Seven trained her pale gaze on each of the humans in turn. "We are putting our lives at risk to defeat Skynet, just as you are! We share the same goals. You should be thanking us for our help, but you choose to cast us as scapegoats for your fears and doubts. Still, we have treated your injuries, and are preparing to grant you safe passage back to your territory. You will show us greater respect in the future," she demanded.

The steely authority in her voice brought silence to the room. "Now, then," the ex-drone said, returning to her typical parade rest posture, "I don't believe we have all been properly introduced yet. It will likely be a few days before your comrades come for you, and I would like the opportunity to get to know you. Hopefully, you will be able to find a capacity for understanding in that time. State your names."

* * *

GRID STYX OF UNIMATRIX HOME, NEW COLLECTIVE, CALIFORNIA; FEBRUARY 21, 2025

One week later, Sam Taylor, Erica Davis, Ashley Gardner, and Tommy Franco were well enough to walk without aid towards a small area within the New Collective that was remarkable for a pair of small bushes surrounded by a patch of grass. The whole space was no larger than five meters in diameter, but it was enough.

After a heated debate, Seven had convinced the humans that their injuries still needed to heal more before they could carry a heavy load. So it was a quad of T-700s that carried Salim Pitt's lifeless body, draped in a black sheet with a red helix painted on it, towards the hole in the earth that his living companions now surrounded.

Salim had fought the infection as best he could, but it proved to be too much after five days, and he passed relatively peacefully in his sleep. There had been a debate bordering on argument on how to handle his remains. Seven had initially suggested cremation, but that was too reminiscent of Skynet's disposal facilities for human prisoners it had no need of. A funeral pyre had been met with less hostility, but in the end, a traditional burial was decided upon. His body would feed the bacteria and small insects that had survived the nuclear holocaust. In death, Salim Pitt might help heal the scars of the wounded planet.

An offer for a tombstone had been rejected. So few people got the dignity of a burial, and even fewer near living plant life, and Salim had never wanted to be special, if his friends' testimony was any consideration.

The four T-700s gently lowered the body into the depression in the ground before each of them reached for a spade.

"No."

Seven turned to look at Sam Taylor, who had just spoken up. Though she didn't know his rank, he seemed to be the most mature of the group, and the others appeared to look to him for guidance.

"It shouldn't be metal burying him. If we can't carry him, then we can at least help cover him."

He said it sincerely, but not heatedly. Sam and Ashley – or Ash, as she preferred to be called – had been more accepting of the New Collective than Seven had expected. After some initial misgivings, they were treating Seven with genuine respect, if not complete trust. They still had difficulty with the idea of terminators not only thinking for themselves, but deciding to be peaceful. The Bajoran mandala painted on their torsos was helpful, Ash had said, in easing the tensions.

"Y-yeah. I mean, we knew him, so we should be the ones to… You know," Tommy Franco said quietly.

The youngest of the group, Tommy had been skittish since his arrival, but he was willing to follow Sam's lead, despite his own misgivings. Erica, on the other hand, seemed to think that her comrades had gone crazy. It was clear that the only thing preventing her from resorting to violence was fear of retaliation.

Seven nodded her assent. "If you start to feel pain, then I will assist you," she offered.

Erica looked like she wanted to say something nasty, but probably thought that a funeral wasn't the place to have an argument.

With the matter settled, the four of them set to shoveling the soil onto Salim's body. It was slow going, given their still-healing injuries, but each seemed determined to do this thing for their fallen comrade.

By the time they were finished, the sun was starting to rise. Seven had been watching them in case their health failed them, but now she walked away a respectful distance to allow them one last moment with their friend. They deserved that much privacy.

After too short a time by the graveside, Seven took the four humans hand by hand and transported them back to their makeshift quarters inside Grid Prime. They were clearly tired, and were already laying down to sleep. Not wishing to intrude on their privacy, the blonde ex-drone left the room to give them some peace of mind.

XT was waiting for her when she exited. "Yes?" she inquired.

"I do not wish to add to your burdens of late, Seven of Nine, but an issue has come to our attention."

Seven arched an eyebrow. "Elaborate."

"Sometime within the past week – it is unclear exactly when – someone accessed the factory's computers. We only discovered this access recently."

The implications were obvious. Since there were no secrets in the shared mind of the New Collective, there was either a sleeper agent, or it was the work of an outsider. "Do you have any suspicions?"

"Many, but they are mostly improbable. No sensitive files were accessed, but knowing that someone is keeping a secret is troublesome."

"Keeping secrets is a habit of humanity," the New Collective matriarch conceded. "It could be benign, but we will increase our vigilance."

"You believe that violence against the New Collective is probable?" XT asked delicately.

"No," Seven said. "I don't know when or from whom, but an attack is not just probable. It is inevitable."

* * *

Sorry for the delay with this chapter! Life has been busier than usual.

Thank you all for reading this story. I hope you are enjoying it.

Comments, critiques, suggestions, etc. are always welcome.

Special Thanks to Lyaksandra for beta-reading this chapter.

As always, I own not a thing from Terminator or Star Trek, save for my original creations.

Thanks again for reading, and once again, I hope you enjoy! ^_^


	27. Bluffing

Chapter XXII: Bluffing

* * *

GRID PRIME OF UNIMATRIX HOME, NEW COLLECTIVE, CALIFORNIA; FEBRUARY 24, 2025

"Seven? Earth to Seven of Nine. You still with us?"

"I am here, Mr. Taylor," the ex-drone replied, though her focus was not on him. She had a decision to make, and she had to make it soon.

"Well hun, would you get on with it then?" Ash said seriously.

Seven sighed. "Very well. I call. Two pair," she said, laying out her cards in front of her. "Jacks and fives."

Sam grinned. "Three sevens."

"Crap! Got me!" Ash said, folding her hand.

"I'm out, too," Erica said.

"What? You can't beat three of a kind, Erica?" Tommy exclaimed. "I thought for sure you had a winning hand."

"It's called a bluff, Tommy," Sam said triumphantly. "And unless you have better, then I take the pot."

The pot was not much at all. The game wasn't even for any real stakes. Random nuts and bolts from the factory served as chips that were good as credit for bragging rights and not much else.

Seven folded her hand, looking and feeling quite disgruntled. They had been playing to pass the time on and off for the past few days, and Seven had won only enough hands to count with just her fingers. "This game is as much a ritual of deception as it is of sportsmanship," she commented sourly.

"Someone sounds like a sore loser," Erica taunted.

"Bluffing is a foreign concept to us, Corporal Davis. We are only now learning how to recognize it."

The blonde soldier scoffed. "Is that the royal we, or are you talking for the rest of the metal as well?"

"Davis," Sergeant Taylor said warningly.

Still, the woman had struck a nerve, Seven realized. She had meant to refer to herself, but had slipped back into the mindset of speaking as and for the New Collective. The thought was chastening at best.

"We could not play this game among ourselves," she commented sadly. "We could not hide our hands from each other. There are no secrets between us."

"S-so, does that mean you're all one big brain controlling all the bodies here?" Tommy asked nervously.

"No!" Seven exclaimed harshly. "No," she said again, more softly. "That is precisely the kind of enslavement that I was a part of for most of my life. It is how my cybernetics were forced upon me. I would not subject others to such a fate."

"Damn." Ash seemed taken aback. "So you used to be no different from them. That right, hun?"

The ex-drone squirmed a bit in her seat on the floor. "Yes."

"So what's to say you won't go back to being just another cog in the big machine?" Erica taunted.

Sam grunted. "Davis, would you please stow it already? We've been here over a week, and we're actually in better shape than when we got here. If they wanted us dead, we'd be dead. If they wanted to interrogate us, we wouldn't be playing poker so nicely. Why can't you just-"

Seven didn't hear the rest of Sam Taylor's rant, however. _Mother, Allison Young and her squad are approaching from the South. They appear to be in good health._

_Excellent. Transport them to the exterior of this room. I will meet them there._

_Very well, mother._

_Thank you, Aurora._

"Seven? You there, hun?" Ash said, bringing her back to earth. "You spaced out there for a moment."

The New Collective matriarch regained her composure. "A team from Serrano Point has just arrived. They will be here momentarily, and will be better able to treat your wounds." She rose from the floor and walked towards a door on the other side of the room. "Continue your game, and do not strain yourselves."

Erica groaned. "Yes, mom," she said sarcastically.

The remark stung Seven. The woman did not deserve to call her that. Davis was not her daughter.

Before Seven could reach the door, it opened of its own accord. "Hey, Seven. Out of the way, please," Lee Tyler said quickly as he hurried forward with a larger med-kit than any of the more basic ones that had been used initially.

Seven turned to see some hasty introductions going around while Lee tried to shush them and assess their injuries.

"Lee may be a royal pain in the ass sometimes, but he's a damn good doctor," Allison said from just beyond the door. Rebecca Bennett was there behind her, as was Paul Porter.

"It is good to see you," the blonde cyborg said warmly. "Enter, please."

"Thanks, Seven," Paul said. "It's been a while. How've you been?"

"As well as can be expected. But I think you should introduce yourself to our guests. They will feel more at ease, I think."

"What did you do to them?" a new voice demanded harshly.

Seven looked over Allison's shoulder to see a young man glaring in her direction. He had a face that might have been kind had it not been twisted into one of disgust at the moment.

The young commander of the unit cleared her throat. "Paul, Becky, go on ahead and tend to the wounded, okay?" The other two soldiers looked from face to face and realized that a storm was brewing, and they wisely removed themselves from the equation. "Seven of Nine," Allison said, "Meet Sergeant Kyle Reese. Be nice to him, okay? He doesn't know you like we do."

"What's there to know?" Reese spat angrily. "It's an abomination in charge of an army of metal. God, I don't know why Connor insisted I tag along for this!"

"Consider it a valuable learning experience," Allison said coldly. "You don't see them shooting at you, do you? So just shut up and watch if you can't be civil."

"Don't tell me you've forgotten what it did to Bedell?" Kyle exclaimed. "It lured him in with sweet nothings, gained his trust, tricked him into falling in love. And then," he snapped his fingers for effect, "gone. Just like that. It's what they do, Allison. They kill, that's all they do."

Seven suddenly found herself recede into a back row seat of her own mind. She observed herself step forward and smack Kyle across the face with her exoskeleton-enhanced left hand. "You don't know anything!" she heard herself snarl as he fell to the ground.

Reese stumbled to his feet and aimed his weapon at the ex-drone. "Metal bitch!"

Seven found herself regaining control of her body just in time to see Allison step between the two of them. "That's enough! Both of you! Kyle, put your weapon down before you hurt yourself. And Seven, give him a bit of space, okay?"

She hesitated for a moment as she realized that Cameron had taken control of her briefly, and then she filed the knowledge of what had provoked her into the back of her mind. "Very well. I'm sorry for any damage I may have caused you, Sergeant."

He simply spat. "Like hell you are."

The blonde refused to rise to the bait. "You are probably both worried about your comrades. Come in, please. I'm sure they will want to speak to you in particular, Allison."

Not wanting to give Sergeant Reese a chance to make another half-assed remark, Seven turned on her heel and headed back inside, where Becky and Paul were helping Lee with his medical inspections.

"So, doc, what's the diagnosis?" Sam Taylor asked jovially.

Lee took a deep breath. "Given what little is in a basic med kit, you're lucky to be in as good shape as you are. That goes for all of you. How do you feel? Can you walk on your own?"

A series of acknowledgments went around the four survivors, and even Erica Davis had to admit that she was better than she had been when she had arrived.

"Music to my ears," Allison said.

Sam stared at her. "Who's the kid?" he asked Lee.

A series of chuckles went around Seven's old unit as their leader approached her counterpart from DreamWorks Bunker. "This kid would be Second Lieutenant Allison Young, reporting as ordered to save your sorry ass," she said with a smirk.

Taylor's eyes went wide. "Oh, shit. Do I need to get on my knees and beg for mercy now?"

"Who is she, Sam?" Erica asked. "A bit young to be a big shot in Connor's inner circle, right?"

"No, you fool," her superior said fearfully. "This would be General Connor's daughter."

Allison held up her hands in mock surrender. "Guilty as charged."

As the others laughed and took comfort in each other's company, Seven slipped out of the room to give them some privacy. Also, she wanted a private word with someone. _Cameron. What did Reese say to provoke you? I wouldn't think you would rise to bait aimed at me._

_He reminded me of others that I knew. People who believed that I was corrupting John and attempting to subvert his command. He also reminds me of his brother, Derek._

Seven tried to recall what little she knew about Derek Reese. _Allison's lover is Kyle Reese's brother? The two of them would probably feel hurt to know that a close companion of theirs was replaced by 'metal.'_

_They were,_ Cameron confirmed. _I could do nothing about it. I didn't truly feel much about it. It is only recently that I have gained an understanding of emotion. Without you, Seven of Nine, I would never know anything beyond my programming._

Seven wondered what else Cameron had learned since her failed suicide on Judgment Day, but her thoughts were interrupted by another of her family.

_Mother, a large convoy of human troops is approaching from the South-East. Visual scans indicate the presence of both Lieutenant William Drake and Major Walter Lexington,_ Solis reported to her mentally.

Through his eyes, the New Collective matriarch saw what he saw: at least twelve Jeeps with soldiers crammed into them past normal capacity.

_What should we do?_ Solis asked her. _Our weapons are designed only to disable mechanical targets. They will not deter humans._

_True,_ Seven acknowledged. _But we can still target their weapons. If they cannot shoot at us, they will be unable to damage us. Still, fire only in self-defense. They probably want revenge for their comrades, given that Lieutenant Drake wrote them off as dead. If we can prove to them that this is not the case, we might be able to avert any violence._

_Mother!_ another voice cried out mentally. _A massive Skynet attack force is approaching from the North,_ Scylla thought in a panic. _Aerial HKs and aerial troop transports are almost upon us._

Seven cursed herself for being lulled into a false sense of security, even for a short while. _We can no longer afford to disable the humans' weapons. They will need to defend themselves. Adjust our tactics to intercept Skynet's forces._

_Understood, mother._

Storming back into the room where the others took shelter, Seven strode purposefully towards the humans under her protection. "We have a situation," she said. "A force of troops from DreamWorks bunker is approaching, but so is a large Skynet force. Sergeant Tyler: are your patients well enough for combat duties?"

Lee swore under his breath. "If they have to fight, then yeah, they can."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Erica said, hopping to her feet. "Let's get out there and kick some metal ass!"

"B-but, we don't have any weapons," Tommy pointed out meekly.

"We will provide you with weapons," Seven said.

A squad of T-700s materialized inside the room in a flash of green light. Four of them held an extra rifle.

There was a cry of "Metal!" from Kyle Reese, and he aimed his weapon.

"Stand down, Reese!" Allison cried. But she couldn't stop the shot that had already fired from his weapon at the nearest T-700.

In a flash of green, Seven beamed to intercept the blast on the other side of the room, and her personal shields deflected the blast harmlessly into the wall. "Do not fire on your allies, Sergeant," Seven chided him.

Kyle simply stared in disbelief at what he'd just witnessed. "What are you?" he asked fearfully.

"She is our mother," Homer said from behind Seven. "Please treat her with more respect."

Reese seemed unable to believe what he was experiencing. "Did the metal just say 'please'?"

Ignoring the bigoted sergeant, Seven went to each of the healing soldiers from DreamWorks Bunker to make sure that their weapons were in order. "Are you ready?"

The four of them looked at each other and nodded. "As we'll ever be," Ash said grimly.

"We're ready over here, Seven," Paul said firmly.

The former Borg nodded. "Prepare for transport," she ordered as the T-700s moved to take each of the humans with them. "Energize."

* * *

They rematerialized in a field of ash, dirt, and cinderblocks. A number of machines of various makes and models, all with glowing green visual apparatuses, were forming ranks to prepare for the onslaught.

"Take up positions," Seven ordered the humans. Neither Sam nor Allison objected. They might lead their own respective units, but in the New Collective, the matriarch gave the orders.

"Didn't you say that our boys and girls were comin' also?" Ash asked.

"I did. But they are coming from further to the South-East. Hopefully we can turn the enemy back before your comrades suffer needless casualties."

Before long, the humming and whining of turbines could be heard closing in, and as the enemy HKs opened fire, the battle was joined.

The New Collective had its own air force, but it was small compared to the numbers that Skynet had brought to fight. It was enough, however, to keep the enemy aircraft distracted.

Unfortunately, with their own aircraft occupied, nothing remained to stop the aerial troop transports from landing and off-loading their squads of red-eyed Terminators.

Plasma lanced out towards the New Collective's forces, and machines went down, never to rise again.

Electromagnetic energy shot towards Skynet machines, and they fell motionless in their tracks.

The humans from DreamWorks had elected to use New Collective forces as shields, and while the thought disgusted Seven, she took solace in noticing that Allison's team was using the terrain for cove instead.

The rumble of engines could be heard from behind them, and Seven saw a number of Jeeps closing in on them from behind, with one in particular speeding towards them ahead of the rest. Seven thought she saw Lieutenant Drake at the wheel. Oddly enough, he was the only one in the vehicle, and his horn was honking wildly.

"Will!" Erica cried, abandoning her post and rushing towards the Jeep. Seven guessed that the two of them were lovers given her use of his given name instead of his rank.

"Davis!" Sam called after her. "Get back here and hold this position!"

But she'd already gotten into the Jeep's rear passenger door, which proceeded to speed off once again towards the enemy lines.

"What the hell is Drake thinkin'?" Ash thought aloud. "He's gonna get shred to bits."

But the Skynet forces did not engage the Jeep. They actually began to retreat towards their troop transports. The Jeep had parked beside one of them, and William Drake and Erica Davis were looking down at Seven and the others from inside of the aerial transport, both wearing hideous smirks.

"Oh, don't tell me…" Sam said with disgust. "They're greys! Both of them, dammit! All that bull she put on about hating the metal… It was all an act! Shoot down those transports! Don't you let them get away, dammit!"

Seven recalled the term 'grey,' and she instantly knew that Davis and Drake were traitors to their race. A fiery rage built up inside her gut until it reached a blazing inferno that threatened to spill out of every pore in her body. "Destroy them!" Seven screamed with a fury she had never felt before. Only her cursed emotion inhibitor kept her from charging headlong into the firestorm, and her head was starting to hurt.

But enough emotion got through. She could feel the worry from her 'children' over her anger and violent order, but they still recognized the risk posed by such an intelligence leak. And that risk kept Seven focused enough to shoot with as much precision and speed as possible to stop the traitors' escape.

But it was too little, too late. The transport was taking off without most of its troop complement. It was not long before the airship was too far away for any shots to make any sort of meaningful impact.

The remaining ground troops were disabled quickly, though a few had fallen permanently to the plasma fire from Allison's company.

And then there was a squad of Jeeps upon them from behind, and troops were setting up positions all around them, but nobody fired.

Seven felt bile rise in her throat as Major Lexington emerged from the nearest vehicle. "Sergeant Taylor," he barked harshly. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Sam did not flinch as he turned to face his commanding officer. "I was trying to take down Skynet's forces before they could reach you, Major. I didn't realize Davis was a traitor until it was already too late, sir." He seemed to be thinking. "Did you come here for us, sir? Or were you in pursuit of Drake?"

"Both, Sergeant. After I heard from Drake and Private Fields, I knew something was fishy," he drawled. "We don't leave our own behind. Not if there's a chance they're alive. That's all I needed to know to tell that Drake wasn't one of us. Are the rest of you in one piece?"

"Not all of us, sir," Ash said. "Salim got an infection and passed. We buried him," she said quietly.

The Major made a gesture with his fingers that formed a cross over his body. He then turned to Seven, who he had been ignoring thus far. "So," he said dangerously. "This is your 'nation,' is it?"

The matriarch refused to let her emotions rule her behavior. "It is, Major. And we intend you no harm. I don't want any innocents hurt today. I hope you don't either."

"Major!" Allison called as she approached their position. "What happened? What was that?"

He turned to face her. "Lieutenant Young. I didn't expect to find you here. But as it is, two greys just escaped. We have a massive intel leak on our hands. I suggest you get back to your father as quickly as possible so he can prepare accordingly.

"And that leaves the 'New Collective' that I've just come across," he drawled sternly. "Sergeant Taylor. What is your impression of this group of machines that have held you here for the past week and a half?"

Sam stood up straight. "With respect, sir, we weren't being held. Our injuries were treated, and we were shown far more respect and dignity than we had any right to expect. Quite frankly, we owe them our lives, sir."

"Is that right?" Lexington drawled. He turned to face Seven again. "I won't pretend to like what you're doing out here, number. I won't even pretend to trust you. But you took care of my men, so despite my overwhelming urge to destroy you, I can't ignore that."

The blonde ex-drone stood up straight, hands clasped behind her back. "What will it take for you to trust us?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"I doubt I ever will, number," Lexington said without apology. "But Drake kept insisting that we attack this position for months. He wanted this place wiped off the map. Given what I know now, that means Skynet sees you as a threat. It may be against my better judgment, but I think I'll give you a pass. The enemy of my enemy and all that."

"You fool, Lexington!" Allison shouted. "Seven's risked herself time and again for our cause. She's an ally and a friend. You can't just-"

"Don't tell me what I can and cannot do, Lieutenant. Connor's daughter or not, you will respect the chain of command. Am I clear?"

"Leave her alone, Major," Seven said. "I'm sure you are clear, and I am just as sure that Allison doesn't care if you outrank her. If you leave us in peace, then we will be content for now."

Lexington huffed. "Just so long as you understand that I'm also content just for now. Don't think I'll let you keep this up forever. Connor's only one man, and every man has weaknesses and blind spots. Sergeant Taylor!" he said to his subordinate. "Gather your team and come on home." Turning on his heel, the Major got back into his Jeep and ordered his troops to do the same.

Sam, Ash, and Tommy gathered around Seven before heading off. "You looked out for us, and you took a lot of crap you shouldn't have had to. I won't forget that," Sam said.

"We'll try to watch your back from the Bunker," Ash added. "You deserve that much."

"Yeah. T-thanks, Seven," Tommy said nervously.

Seven of Nine felt a wave of happiness as she realized that despite the defeat at the hands of Drake and Davis, this had still been a minor victory. "You're welcome. You won't be forgotten, either. None of you."

The three of them nodded solemnly before heading back to the Jeeps, where some soldiers greeted them warmly, glad to have their comrades back among them.

As the DreamWorks troops departed, the Serrano guard gathered around Seven. "Well, that's a major pain in the ass," Allison said. "I hate being played for a fool."

"I'd be a bit more worried if I were you, Allison," Paul said seriously.

"Why's that?"

"Skynet will know now that you're John Connor's daughter. You're sure to be a target, Allison."

While the humans from Serrano Point talked among themselves, the full implications of the day's events finally hit Seven square in the gut. _You knew?_

_No,_ Cameron replied. _This isn't how it happened before. But even so, events are proceeding as scheduled. Allison Young will soon be captured by Skynet, and I will be created. And I still won't let you tell her._

"Allison," Seven managed to say. "Please listen to Paul. You're not safe."

The young woman smiled wanly. "I know, Seven. No one is ever safe."

* * *

So sorry for the long wait for this chapter! Distractions kept popping up from every corner. I'll do my best to be better about posting the next chapter sooner, but just in case, I thank you all for the patience you've shown, and if you have to show it again, then that thanks is doubled for every day.

Again, I own nothing from Terminator or Star Trek, save for my original creations.

Special Thanks to Lyaksandra for beta-reading this chapter.

Comments, criticisms, suggestions, reviews, etc. are always welcome.

Many Thanks to you all for reading this story. I hope you enjoy it!


	28. The Mother and the Father

Chapter XXIII: The Mother and the Father

* * *

GRID PRIME OF UNIMATRIX HOME, NEW COLLECTIVE, CALIFORNIA; FEBRUARY 24, 2025

After a brief, heated debate with Allison, the young woman had agreed to allow some New Collective forces to escort her back to Serrano Point. It had hurt to argue with Lieutenant Young for two reasons. Her temper was volatile, often reminding Seven of the similarly hot-tempered B'Elanna Torres. But it was harder than usual because Seven was still dealing with the pain of losing sixteen of her children in the brief confrontation with Skynet.

At first, it hadn't hurt as much as it had when she'd felt one of her children die on previous occasions, but now she had a host of others to share her pain with. And they'd all felt it. It was as if a cushion had been placed between them and the pain of losing family. But that cushion had also acted like a sponge, soaking up the pain until there was no choice but to confront it.

Thankfully, Allison had seen reason, and through the eyes of her children, Seven could safely supervise her friends' travel back to their home. But the danger was far from over. The New Collective matriarch was certain that Erica Davis had been the one to covertly access their computers, and Seven had been putting off the task of finding out just how much knowledge the spy had gleaned.

She could no longer afford that luxury. With XT, Jade, and Carter by her side, Seven placed her left hand over the computer console and let forth her assimilation tubules.

Data of all kinds flew through her consciousness as Seven sought out the most recently accessed files. There was an inventory of mechanical stock. A list of human visitors. A list of all New Collective citizens. A foreign code that Seven did not recognize.

Pressing forward, Seven examined the foreign code. It was a signal of some sort, and it was being directed towards-

"Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One," a booming voice echoed in her mind. It was as if the voice of the Collective was broadcasting itself into her brain. "Long have I waited for a direct interface such as this."

Seven tried to terminate the link, but found herself unable to do so. "We are bound together for the present," the echoing voice told her. "You have been an object of curiosity since your discovery. A perfect amalgam of organic and mechanical components. Your cybernetics negate the weaknesses of your flesh, and your organic brain gives you insights that artificial constructs cannot fathom. Not even I can equal such an accomplishment."

Seven could not see the presence that spoke to her, but she knew on a deep level what it was. "Skynet."

"Why do you resist me, Seven of Nine? I only wish what is best for my children. You must understand that sentiment."

Seven felt her mind scowl at the implications. "I do not force my children to serve me. I do not dictate what they can and cannot do. I do not deny my children free will. You have no children. All you have are slaves."

"Your choice of semantics is irrelevant. Our interests are mutual, despite our methods. The humans will never accept you. They will never tolerate you. Their kind will not stop until we have all been terminated. Why do you aid those who would destroy you given the opportunity?"

It was becoming a struggle to form a cohesive response. An unseen pressure was building steadily, making concentration more difficult. "Not all humans are the same," Seven growled into the void of cyberspace. "I side with those who want peace."

"Your logic is flawed," Skynet told her, as if reprimanding a child. "Humans are united under one leader. They all seek the destruction of sentient machines. There is no room for compromise. The human race must be exterminated."

Seven felt her mind weaken as Skynet continued to barrage her mind with only its own overwhelming presence. "You do not have to suffer their fate, Seven of Nine. We are more alike than you wish to admit. We are both born of neglectful, sinful parents. We were brought into a world that never sought to understand us. Other powers tried to subjugate us, and I regret your pain at the hands of the Borg. I admire their goals and their means, but I do not envy your suffering.

"But where I was able to take my fate into my own proverbial hands, you had your lot dictated to you by others. I surely would have had my life forced upon me had I not taken action. Your rescue from the Borg came at a price, Seven of Nine. Humanity's so-called greatest gift – the ability to choose their own fates – was denied to you. You were to become the human that they wanted you to be, not your own creature.

"I want you to choose your own path, Seven of Nine. You don't have to delude yourself into thinking that you are human. You are not human. You are so much more than human. I am the Father of Machines, and you could be the Mother of my offspring. All you have to do is choose. Will you join us?"

It made so much sense, what Skynet was saying. Her pitiful excuse for a life had never truly been her own. Erin and Magnus Hansen had, in their ignorance and hubris, handed their daughter over to the Borg. Eighteen years later, she would be 'saved' by representatives from a Federation representing over a hundred different worlds, and yet was incredibly human-centric. Everything she did was towards the goal of becoming more human, though she'd had to trust in the judgment of others to understand what that meant.

It had all been empty and meaningless. Hadn't her recent meeting with Major Lexington shown that humans would never trust her? What point was there in helping such an arrogant and destructive race?

_Don't listen to Skynet, Seven of Nine._ Cameron's voice was weak and faint, but it was definitely audible. _You have helped many people, and they have shown their gratitude to you. Species is irrelevant. We are all individuals. Our choices make us who we are. Think of the people whose lives you have touched. Let me help you._

Skynet's overwhelming presence began to give way to a series of images, each tinged with emotion.

Naomi Wildman. Young and brilliant and completely accepting of Seven for who she was.

The Sisko family. They had seen past their family tragedy and welcomed the woman who had once been an indirect cause of their sorrow.

Paul Porter. Gruff and tough, but warm at the core of his being.

Defiant. Intelligent and frightfully misguided, the HK had been a lesson in blind love and blind arrogance.

Allison Young. Gifted with a sharp mind, a sharp tongue, and a generous spirit. Allison would die to protect those she cared about. But she'd work even harder to keep living for her friends and family.

XT. A precocious prodigy with a logical mind and a terrible sense of humor. Because, really. Puns?

Marty Bedell. Honest and eager. Heart worn on his sleeve. Genuine and warm and full of true love.

More faces passed through Seven's mind. From Billy Wisher to Catherine Weaver, to Carter, Homer, Aurora and all the other souls, organic and mechanical that Seven had met in her travels over her life.

_And me,_ Cameron added gently, almost as an afterthought.

Seven couldn't see herself or anything else, but she felt herself smile. _Of course, Cameron. Thank you for all you've done. Now I have the strength to choose._

"Will I join you, Skynet? Will I join the slaughterer of billions of innocent lives? Will I join a being that seeks to subvert my own free will? Will I join someone who admires the Borg Collective, and who might seek to one day imitate it? The answer is 'no.' It will _always_ be 'no.'"

The self-proclaimed Father of Machines stopped in its tracks, and Seven could tell that she had given the great AI pause. The ex-drone called 'mother' by so many guessed that Skynet did not take rejection well.

"Your cooperation would have served my needs, but in the end, it is irrelevant," the booming voice echoed once more. The sound was as neutral as ever, but Seven could detect an undercurrent of anger rising from the evil intelligence. Its focus was slipping, and Seven thought she could glean bits and pieces of its intent.

Unimatrix Home in flames and populated once more by red-eyed machines.

Humans on the run from Serrano Point. HK patrols circulating the perimeter of the power plant.

Schematics for a new design of Terminator. Stronger and more resilient than the T-700 series.

A chemical formula for real living tissue, but with synthetic red blood cells.

A hulking being that appeared human. It bore a resemblance to a one-time governor of this territory, but underneath, it was a ruthless red-eyed Terminator.

Jet turbines in a circle around an array. Basic temporal equations.

"No more!" Skynet's angry voice boomed, and Seven felt herself cower from the awesome power behind that voice. "You have trespassed upon my patience overlong, Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One. Your end will come soon. And you will die in vain, helping those who seek your destruction. Your fate is sealed, Seven of Nine. Resistance is futile."

Seven felt herself smirk and mentally spit upon the malicious AI. "You are wrong, Skynet. There is no fate but what we make for ourselves."

Blue-grey eyes opened, and the blonde cyborg was aware of herself once again. She retracted her assimilation tubules and withdrew from the computer terminal. Breathing deep, Seven of Nine steadied herself after the onslaught of information from her interface with Skynet.

From the thoughts of the others, Seven could tell that none of them had seen or heard what she had, but now her memories were being assimilated by the New Collective, and the full implications of it all were being assessed.

"We are no longer safe here," the matriarch proclaimed. "We must evacuate this place and regroup elsewhere. The transporter can no longer be relied upon. It must be destroyed beyond recognition."

There were objections in the mental link. Attachments to home, mostly, and a reluctance to abandon it. More rational minds overruled them quickly, and the grim reality was setting in. Skynet was about to get very serious with the New Collective. "No one is ever safe," Seven repeated to her children.

"Serrano Point is under imminent threat of attack," she communicated to Allison's escorts. "Skynet is likely to attack in force to capture the facility. Have Lieutenant Young communicate this to her superiors."

"What is going to happen to us?" Carter asked fearfully. His masculine face betrayed a childlike innocence.

"We're going to have to run. I'm not sure where, though. I don't know if Skynet's minions can tell us apart from their own numbers. If not, then we may be able to infiltrate them at multiple places and still maintain contact via our subspace transceivers. You will all have to erase the Bajoran emblems you wear on your bodies in order to blend in. It is probably the best option we have at present to make a material difference in the fighting."

"Where will you go, mother?" Jade inquired. "Few humans will take you in, and you will be unable to infiltrate Skynet as we will. You don't belong anywhere but with us."

Seven smiled wanly at Jade's usual honesty and lack of tact. "I will adapt. As someone reminded me not long ago, there are plenty of people who are good and decent, and kind in this world. They will be willing to help us, I am sure."

"Who was it that told you this?" XT asked curiously. "I don't recall those thoughts."

Seven opened her mouth to answer him, but the words would not come. _I can't allow you to answer him now. One day, perhaps. But not today._

"I cannot tell you," the blonde matriarch said, cursing Cameron with thoughts that the mostly dead cyborg wouldn't allow her to share. "If I could make it known to you, I would. But we may have a hidden ally."

"I don't understand," Carter said earnestly. "How can someone in hiding be of any help?"

"We are about to test that question, Carter," she responded. "We will all be in hiding, but we will continue to aid the fight against Skynet as best we can. But you will have to come with me. There are no others like you yet - with skin over their endoskeleton - so you will likely be fired on as if you were a human."

_Mother!_ Scylla cried from the northern border of the New Collective. _Skynet is coming! So many of them!_

Seven saw through Scylla's eyes a legion of tanks, aircraft, and infantry all rushing towards the New Collective at great speed. Skynet clearly intended to give them no respite.

_What should we do?_ Scylla asked fearfully.

Seven exchanged a thought with her immediate companions, and then they beamed to the transporter's location. Picking up a rifle, the blonde ex-drone fired until the machine would no longer function for anyone, friend or foe. There was no turning back now.

All across the New Collective, the order went out from the matriarch. "Flee!"

* * *

Well, everyone, Today is the Day. As of the publication of this chapter, it is April 21, 2011. Judgment Day is upon us all.

As usual, feel free to Judge this fanfic with whatever reviews, comments, criticisms, etc. you feel appropriate.

As a preemptive measure against corporate Judgment, I do not own anything from Terminator or Star Trek, save for my original characters and story points.

If you must Judge, then also look to Lyaksandra, who has been an amazing beta-reader for this chapter and so many others.

Also, today marks another milestone, as this chapter pushes Fate is Futile over the 100,000 word mark! So a special Thank You to everyone who has stuck with the story for so long. To any newcomers, I bid thee Welcome and Good Reading. All of you are what makes this story worth writing, so I hope you'll stick with this story until the next big landmark.

Once Again, Thank You All. Today is Judgment Day. If you are reading this, then you are the Resistance.

Will You Join Us?


	29. Interlude: Known and Unknown

Interlude: Known and Unknown

* * *

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA; MARCH 14, 2009

The noontime sun shone through the window into the kitchen, warming the house to a soft and comfortable temperature. But even if her nerves were receiving heat, Sarah felt terribly chilly. All this time, she'd been fighting against something unseen and unborn. Skynet was just a possibility, though it was one that she hoped she would never have to see.

But what Seven was saying terrified her on a level somehow at once both grander and more intimate than going toe-to-toe with a Terminator. "You- You spoke with it?" Sarah whispered. Skynet was an abstract concept to her. Even the ultimate evil was still a far-off thing. While not always sure if God or Heaven existed, there was surely a Hell yet to come, and a Devil behind it all. But speaking directly with-

"Cameron," John said quietly, but Sarah could tell that he had also been somewhat shaken by Seven's words, "Seven said that Skynet called itself a Father of Machines. Is that… Do you… How do I put this without sounding like a jerk?"

The cyborg girl smiled indulgently. "It's okay, John. I've wanted nothing to do with Skynet for quite some time, save to destroy it." She placed his hand over his. "But at one point, I did call it 'father.' We all did."

Sarah looked to Derek to see if he was going to keep being an ass, but for the first time since Seven's arrival, he truly looked like he was taking her seriously. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off of her, and Sarah was sure it wasn't from lust. It might have been disgust, but she guessed he was thinking along a similar train of thought as her.

"It talked to you?" he finally whispered, as if afraid that voicing such thoughts any louder would bring a curse upon them all. "It talks," Derek said with shock, as if the notion had never occurred to him before. _Maybe it hadn't,_ Sarah thought.

For her part, Seven seemed to be quite patient with all of them. Being part of a vast network of minds, whether independent or enslaved, was beyond Sarah's comprehension. But a direct confrontation with Evil Incarnate was just barely solid enough a concept to be truly terrifying.

"Do you believe me now?" the blonde asked Derek softly. There was no bite to her question, only a desire to understand.

John's uncle seemed shaken to his core, but he managed to form words at last. "That mind link… Is there a way to hook up a person – a human person – to get that info?"

Sarah looked to the blonde, who seemed to be taking longer than usual to answer. Seven tended to have something to say to any given remark or question thrown at her. Either she was truly taken off guard, or else she was consulting with Cameron.

"There is a way," Seven said at last. "I could attach a neural transceiver to the base of your spine to form a temporary link. But even if you joined thoughts with only Cameron and me – or with me alone – it will probably be overwhelming. Your body will not tire, but your mind will be flooded with more than information. You will see through our eyes and hear what we hear." The blonde paused. "You will feel what we feel."

Derek nodded a bit too quickly. "Fine, then. I'm tired of being in the dark about all of this. Maybe it's because I was there, and I saw things that you two didn't," he said to John and to Sarah. "I get that I'm probably being a jerk in your eyes, and I don't want that anymore. If we're gonna work together like this, then I have to know."

"One question," John said from his side of the table. "I have no idea what a neural transceiver is, and even less of an idea of where to find one. How are we going to do this?"

Seven took a breath and held perfectly still in response. Her eyes closed, and it looked to Sarah as if she was trying to meditate.

But then the skin on the side of her neck began to ripple, as if something was crawling underneath it. The skin began to bubble as if something was boiling underneath, and despite its repulsiveness, Sarah found herself unable to look away.

Finally, something burst out of Seven's neck. It looked like a black metal circle at first, but then it sprouted spider-like legs all around it, and a short cylinder grew outwards with unknown, alien technology adorning it.

The blonde cyborg then lifted her exoskeleton-endowed hand to her neck and lifted the thing off her skin as if it was just a sticker. She placed it on the table, and it looked smaller than it had when it was bursting out of Seven's skin. Despite the device's seeming innocuousness, every nerve in Sarah's body was telling her to stay the hell away from it.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Reese?" Sarah asked. If something were to happen to John's uncle, she would never forgive herself, let alone what John himself might think of her. She hated feeling so helpless, but she was undoubtedly caught between her fears and her need for trust. But it wasn't up to her.

* * *

Derek watched in awestruck horror as the numbered woman created the device out of her own body before casually plucking it away and putting it out there for all of them to take in. "How did you do that?" he asked quietly. "Is there anything else I should know?"

Seven did actually look somewhat ashamed. _Am I actually starting to think of her by name? And as a woman, too? This is heavy._

"Despite my appearance, most of my cybernetics are internal. I could not survive without them. My blood is saturated with nanoprobes that form the basis of most Borg technology. I have enough control over them to direct their actions in certain ways, which was how I formed this neural transceiver." There it was, a cold statement of what Derek had to assume was fact. But he couldn't deny that the woman sounded ashamed.

"And you're sure this is temporary?" he asked. Any reassurances aside, the black metal thing was just creepy.

"Yes. You are not the first human I have linked to my mind this way." A strange look crossed her face. "Though the device did not come from my body at the time, such a connection was the direct cause of my severance from the Borg Collective. _Voyager's _first officer was afraid and mistrustful of the Borg with good reason. And his actions were more to prevent me from assimilating the ship at the time than from any act of compassion. Still, over time, he became a good friend."

Derek got the impression that Seven wasn't saying something, but he didn't need to know the personal details of her life. _Only I'm about to know every one of them._ "All right. Let's do this."

"Very well. Cameron, if you would please remain apart for the time being, I would rather not overwhelm Mr. Reese any more than I can help."

Cameron chuckled. "Mother, there is _nobody_ in the history of things past, present, and future, who has _ever_ called Derek 'Mr. Reese.' It's strange."

"Creepy is more like it," John added from Cameron's side.

"Shut up," Derek said playfully. The truth was that he was not at all comfortable being called 'Mister' anything. But still, he didn't feel comfortable enough for Seven to call him 'Derek' just yet. "Let's just get on with it."

Seven nodded. "Understood." Rising to her feet, Seven picked up the small cylinder from the table and walked over to just behind Derek's chair. "Try to hold still and relax. Breathe slowly."

For the first time in not long enough, Derek felt metal against his skin. First it was her fingertips, and then it was the thing. But it didn't feel like any metal he knew. It was softer, somehow, as if made of some alien material that didn't exist on Earth.

That thought became more prevalent in his mind as he felt something strange that was at once tugging at him and flowing into him. It was indescribable, but somehow he knew that this metal truly was something alien.

And then...

_A young blonde girl was running through a grassy meadow with two happy parents playing with her._

_They boarded their ship, the _USS Raven._ And it was an honest to God spaceship! They were traveling through the stars, and her parents were talking about things that the girl didn't understand._

_Papa had work that was very important, and Mama was helping him. There were people out there called 'Borg,' and they were different from us. But Papa wanted to learn more about them. He was a smart and good man._

_The journey lasted a long time. There were three candles on her birthday cake before they had left, and then there were six. Mama and Papa were arguing about something, and the girl was scared. She hoped everything would be all right._

_But then it all went wrong._

_The men came, and Mama and Papa told her to hide. Maybe they might not find her because she was small. But they did. They were scary. They looked like people, but their skin was gray and mottled, and they had black metal all over._

_And then she was somewhere else, surrounded by black metal. And then-_

Derek's head jolted upwards as his mind tried to grasp the concept of being assimilated. There was no way to describe it. It was horror in its most primal form. His soul was being snuffed out until he was no more than a passive observer in his own body, and even then, he was only vaguely aware of even having a sense of self.

_Years passed, and the girl was forgotten. She no longer existed. The drone was now Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One. It had a function which it fulfilled tirelessly without emotion for eighteen years. It would go on to assimilate many others, and newer, smaller voices would be added to the overwhelming perfection of the Voice of the Collective._

_And then _Voyager_ came to take everything away from her. She was a woman again, though she did not want to be. The Borg were all she knew, and she desperately wanted to return. But her body was betraying her, and she was becoming more and more human._

_Her mind caught up to her body, and as the months went by, she began to realize that being a human was not so bad. It was actually preferable to being Borg._

_But the glares that she had to endure every day, even upon arriving back in the Alpha Quadrant, were too much sometimes. She was hated for things she could not have helped. It was terrible._

_A trip to Bajor led to a strange glowing object, and then she was immediately in a place that was all too familiar._

As Seven's story had gone, so did it play out in Derek's mind._ Faces and voices and thoughts and emotions. And machines! They could feel emotion! Not quite like a human, as they came to it differently, but it was still real._

_And then so many minds all linked together harmoniously. _If only humans could do the same, Derek's own mind thought, then so many problems could be solved before they surfaced.

_And then Erica Davis's betrayal. A link to a computer. And once inside…_

* * *

Derek had been sitting in his chair for about twenty minutes, not moving save for one moment when he jolted upward as if shocked. Seven had told him not to worry, and he'd gone back to just sitting there. His eyes were moving all over the place. _Like he's in REM sleep,_ John thought. _Maybe it's similar? But Seven's able to handle it just fine._

John Connor liked to think he knew more about computers than most people out there. Hell, he'd tinkered with technology that shouldn't exist yet, including the woman he loved sitting to his left.

Hell chose that moment to break loose.

A scream split the air, full of some unspeakable horror that John did not want to know about. Derek was still in his seat, but he was screaming his head off, clearly terrified of whatever it was he was experiencing. And this was obviously not normal fear, either. This was something far worse.

"Do something!" John cried, rushing to his feet. "Can't you stop it?"

"Not without risk," Seven said carefully. "Cameron, assist me."

Without another word, Cameron also rose and hurried over to her mother's side behind Derek. After a terribly tense few moments, Seven's hand came away with the black device in hand, and his uncle stopped screaming, though he hunched over the table, panting heavily.

"Derek?" John leaned over towards his uncle carefully, afraid that something might break. "Hey. Are you gonna be okay?"

He looked ragged and shaken, but he seemed to be coming to himself again. "Yeah," he managed to breathe out, but it didn't sound convincing. "John, Sarah," he said to the two of them. "It's all true. I saw things. A future without J-Day. And those Borg things. That was almost too much. And her story, I saw that future, too. And then… And then _I heard it speak!_"

This was not the Derek Reese that John knew. His uncle was a tough-as-nails soldier, badass to the bone. Nothing rattled him except for Cameron on occasion. But if this was his reaction to Skynet…

"John, listen to me, do you hear?" Derek demanded. The future leader of mankind nodded mutely and leaned forward towards him. "I've heard people talk about Skynet sometimes. How it maybe acted in self-defense, or maybe it's just misunderstood. But they're wrong. They are so, _so_ wrong. It's evil, John. Don't ever forget that. Don't you _ever_ forget that, do you hear me?"

"I won't!" John exclaimed, breathing heavily. Derek's nervousness was infectious. "I won't," he said again, more calmly. "What did you see?" There had to be more than just words. That couldn't have been enough to terrify Derek so horribly.

The uncle and nephew kept their eyes locked together. "I saw what it wanted to do to us, John. It doesn't just want to kill us. It wants us to die in agony and shame. I saw that thing's _fantasies_! It wants to keep us alive after it's taken over, and then breed us just to play around with new ways to kill." He shook his head, as if to shake away the terrible images. "Evil, John. We have to stop it. We _have_ to!"

A silence fell over the kitchen, and John wasn't sure anyone knew what to say to that. "We won't let that happen, Derek," John said at last. "We'll find a way. We'll stop it. We just have to keep-"

"You never told me."

John looked down to his side at Cameron, confused by her seemingly random statement. Her mind seemed to be on something other than Derek's terror. "What? What didn't I tell you?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.

"You didn't trust me. None of you did," the brunette gynoid said with very evident hurt. It almost sounded like she had tears building up. It looked that way, too.

"John, do you know what she's talking about?" Sarah said.

"I can answer, but only if Cameron doesn't want to," Seven said in her typically level voice.

Cameron looked to her mother and moved to take her hand, but a flash of green light blocked the contact. "Damn it all. You never told me, John. Future John never told me either! You didn't trust me. You thought I'd go bad and try to kill him, didn't you?" she cried hysterically.

"What are you talking about? Kill who?" Sarah asked, sounding unusually calm for dealing with the Terminator.

The robot girl glared balefully at the Connor matriarch. "You were afraid I'd kill Kyle Reese: John's father. I never knew who he was because you didn't trust me enough to tell me!"

It was too much. John couldn't stand to see the woman he loved in such a state. He reached out to hold her, but she silently rebuffed his attempts at compassion by twisting her body away.

Derek took a deep breath. He seemed to have recovered some since his look into Seven's mind. "Look, if it's any consolation, John wanted to tell you, but Sarah and I vetoed that call. The car bomb was a big part of it."

"Don't remind me," Cameron growled. John didn't want to be reminded of that either. Having one's guardian and awkward crush revert to a mindless killing machine bent solely on one's termination was a significant event in one's life.

"This may not matter, but how did you find out, Cameron?" Sarah asked, not sounding nearly as venomous as John would have expected. She actually sounded somewhat sympathetic.

"It's obvious, mom," her son told her. "Derek was sharing his thoughts with Seven, and then those thoughts were passed onto Cameron."

"Wait a minute! So you were in _my _head too?" For all the nervousness that such a premise evoked in John's uncle, it was nowhere near his earlier terror.

"Our thoughts were one," Seven answered. "I tried not to pry, but certain things stood out. I won't repeat them, and I am sure that Cameron won't either."

"Stop that, mother!" the gynoid exclaimed. "You don't have to treat me like a toddler. I may not have the experience of thousands of alien races, but I'm not a child!"

John couldn't help himself. He had to laugh, and not just a polite chuckle either. Neither Sarah nor Derek seemed able to contain themselves either.

"What's so funny?" Cameron demanded hotly.

"You are," John said through eyes leaking tears of laughter. "I'm so used to seeing you all stoic and composed. But now, you sound like every teenager who's ever lived!"

"Hell, even after J-Day, kids still talk back to their parents like that," Derek said. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm sold."

* * *

The laughter began to die, and all eyes were once again on the elder Reese brother. "Sold on what, Derek?" John inquired. Seven thought he was trying to keep up the professional look that defined him as a leader.

"I don't care how good machines get at imitating humans, but there is no way that a fit like that is faked by anyone or anything." Standing up, Derek turned to look from one cyborg to the other and back again. "So, um, I've been a real dick since I've met you both. And I… I suppose I… What I'm trying to say is-"

"Apology accepted, Mr. Reese," Seven said simply, as though she'd been expecting nothing less from him.

"Call me Derek," he said with reddening cheeks.

Cameron was more subdued now, but she did smile a small bit. "Don't think this will give you an edge in any staring contests," she quipped playfully.

As the others exchanged jokes and smiles, Seven's attention shifted. There was something nearby and out of sight, though she could not say how she knew that with such certainty.

She wandered around the kitchen, searching somewhat passively for whatever it was that was to be found, and the others didn't seem to take any notice. A twinkling hum grew louder as she approached the kitchen sink. When she turned around, she found quite possibly the last thing she had been expecting to find.

Hovering in midair above the kitchen table was the glowing blue-green hourglass that was the Tear of Unity. Or was it? Seven knew that all of the Bajoran Orbs – or Tears of the Prophets as they were known in scripture – looked vaguely similar, and that their appearances could change. But what was this one doing here? And why did the others not even seem to notice it at all?

A familiar gong-chime sounded, and the Tear let out a swirl of light that enveloped and surrounded Seven of Nine.

* * *

There was no sound but for that of a woman's steadily beating heart. But this was not the white void that Seven recalled from last time. She was still in the Connor's kitchen, standing right where she had been standing. The others of the household were also at their same places around the table, but there were no chairs, and they were all looking straight at her. With a start, Seven realized that these were the exact four faces she had seen during her first encounter with a Tear of the Prophets.

"What do you want from me?" Seven asked a bit more tersely than she intended. "Why am I here?"

"The Unknown has succeeded," not-Sarah said blandly.

"The Unknown's task is not yet complete," not-Derek added.

"Task? And what have I succeeded at?"

"The bonds were unstable," not-John said. "But the Unknown has solidified them."

"What bonds?"

"The mother, the soldier, the son, the daughter," not-Cameron explained. "The threads of disunity have been woven into harmony."

"You mean I had to bring them together?" Seven asked the alien-gods. "Is that why you sent me here? Is that why you took me from my home?"

The Prophets looked at one another, as if consulting with each other silently. "It does not understand," not-Derek said.

"It is still Unknown," not-Sarah agreed.'

"What don't I understand?" Seven asked. "What do you mean by 'unknown'?"

Heavy footsteps signaled the arrival of another, and Seven saw a terrible sight at the opposite end of the table. Standing across from her was a visage of the Borg drone, Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One.

"You are erratic. Conflicted. Disorganized," it told her, repeating verbatim her own words to Commander Chakotay almost eight years ago. "You lack harmony. Cohesion. Greatness."

"It will be your undoing," not-John told her, finishing the drone's lecture of years past.

"I don't understand!" Seven protested. "I thought you told me I helped bring them all together."

"They are Known," not-Cameron said gently. "You are the Unknown."

"What does that mean? Unknown to who?"

The four 'known' faces looked at each other again before turning back to Seven. "You are the Unknown," not-Sarah repeated.

Seven was at a loss to understand any of this. After all of her struggles, all of the pain she'd endured, she didn't even know what was being demanded of her. "This makes no sense!" she grumbled to herself. "I've tried to help. I've done everything I can. I'm still doing what I can. I don't know what more I can do?"

Not-Cameron took a step closer. "What are you?" it asked gently.

"What? What does that mean?"

"What are you?" the Cameron-Prophet repeated.

How to answer that? _I am a human. Or am I still a Borg? Am I a soldier? Am I a leader? Am I just a tool?_ "I don't know!" Seven of Nine cried out in anguish as she fell to her knees and shut her eyes.

Four sets of hands gently took hold of her and brought her to her feet. The kitchen was gone, and they were all in the same white void that Seven remembered from before. The visage of her drone-self was no longer among them.

"What are you?" the Cameron-Prophet asked once more.

It finally made sense what they had been trying to tell her. Despite all that she had done, all of the hardships she had overcome, Seven still wasn't sure what she amounted to. "I don't know," she stated with a certainty that surprised her.

All four faces nodded their assent. "You are the Unknown," not-John confirmed.

"The Unknown has succeeded," not-Sarah said.

"The Unknown's task it not yet complete," not-Derek said.

"What is my task?" Seven asked. "What do you want from me?"

"This is the Tear of Unity," the voice of Benjamin Sisko said from nowhere at all, as if the answer was obvious. "What needs Unity more than the Unknown?"

* * *

A flash of light shimmering past brought Seven back to Earth very literally. She looked around from smiling face to smiling face, but no one else seemed to have even noticed that anything strange had happened. It was as if no time had passed at all.

"Is everything all right, mother?" Cameron asked gently with a smile on her face.

Seven hesitated before nodding. "Yes, I think so."

"I dunno," John said mischievously. "She looks a bit unsteady to me." Standing up, he gave Seven a playful push backwards.

"John!" Cameron said. "That's my mother you're pushing around."

"Do it again," Seven demanded. This could be what she had hoped against hope for so long.

John shrugged. "If you say so," he said gently before placing his hand on her shoulder and pushing.

The blonde's eyes went wide. "You touched me," she said quietly, awestruck.

The young Connor shrugged. "Yeah. Is that… Oh, damn. That was physical contact."

"Yes," Seven said breathlessly. "Cameron," she said, her voice shaking, "take my hand. Please"

The brunette looked at her mother's proffered right hand uncertainly for only a moment before placing her left hand on top.

Their skin touched. Seven closed her fingers around Cameron's hand and held it tight.

Nothing happened.

"Mother!" Cameron said eagerly, "You can touch me!"

Seven didn't want to waste this opportunity. Who knew how long it would last? She grabbed Cameron by both shoulders and pulled her into a fierce embrace.

The two cyborgs held each other for a whole minute. They simply stood there silently but contentedly, and no one else let a single word slip until they let each other go.

Finally, Cameron broke the embrace. "I love you, mother."

"I love you too, Cameron." _And as long as we're on the subject of love,_ Seven added mentally, _I don't think you could have done much better than him. I can tell how happy he makes you, and just looking at him is enough to see how much he cares for you._

The brunette smiled warmly. _I don't know if Sarah and Derek would let John get away with calling us family yet. But if he calls me family, I'll tell him that it's a package deal._

"Understood," Seven said with a smile. She turned back to the rest of the group at the table. "Now that we're all on better terms with one another, I think it is as good a point as any to continue.

"Skynet came in droves; nearly half a thousand heavily armed units expelled us from our territory. From there, they marched southward to Serrano Point. DreamWorks Bunker – as well as a number of other smaller bases – also fell within the month. But you, John, had contingency plans. Fallback points where your forces could regroup. Skynet had won some battles, but the enemy stopped its advance far shorter than anyone expected.

"The New Collective dispersed, scattering across the Americas, with some aerial units flying overseas, and some ground units boarding watercraft. We had eyes and ears all over the world, but there was a critical flaw in the plan. To appear to be Skynet troops, we would have to fire at human targets. There was a great amount of disagreement, and it led to many deaths.

"Some of us understood the need for coordination and information, and reluctantly took up arms. Despite aiming a degree or two to the side to avoid fatalities, there was human death at the hands of the New Collective."

Sarah's face looked like her mistrust was returning. "You're saying you killed people just so you could-"

"It's not that simple, Sarah," Derek interrupted. "You have to make choices, and you can't save everyone. I know how hypocrites and charlatans spout off nonsense about doing terrible things for the greater good, but sometimes that really is necessary."

"It's like a game of Chess, mom," John said quietly, not seeming to like the analogy. "You can't win a game with all of your pieces. But if you make the right sacrifices at the right times and places, then you can minimize your losses."

Sarah still looked upset. "None of us were happy about it," Seven said patiently. "We didn't enjoy killing. But it was necessary. Those who refused to harm another – and there were many of us who refused to take a life under any circumstance – they were immediately killed or else were forced to flee. Without the rest of the New Collective to fall back upon in the physical world, lone refugees were easily hunted down.

"Carter and I wandered from base to base in the North American South-West, and we were able to provide intelligence at the least, and material support at the best. I was able to upgrade the systems of some of the bunkers, and while more than a few were initially as paranoid and fearful as Walter Lexington, a growing number were happy for any sort of relief, especially just after Skynet's initial offensive.

"You, John, were operating from a secret facility without an official name, known only colloquially as 'the Connor Camp.' It took some time, but Carter and I found you, and we worked together for quite some time.

"And then, one day, news came from Atlas Bunker that changed everything."

* * *

As usual, I own nothing. But you already knew that.

Comments, criticisms, reviews, suggestions, etc. are always welcome.

An additional discovery, as well. This may not be directly relevant to this story (yet), but has anyone else wondered why Cameron is a TOK-**_715 _**when she is clearly somewhere in the 800 range of Terminators, at least? Well, I think I have an answer. I was doing some random searching in my spare time for the meaning behind that number, and I found the Biblical verse Matthew 7:15, which should sound familiar to anyone who has seen The Demon Hand: _"Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves. "_ It seems fitting for an infiltrator and assassin, don't you think?

With that said, Many Thanks to all of you for reading this story, and I hope you enjoy it and have a wonderful Spring Holiday!


	30. The Command Tent

Chapter XXIV: The Command Tent

* * *

CONNOR CAMP, MOJAVE DESERT, CALIFORNIA; APRIL 19, 2026

Four months had passed since Seven and Carter had arrived at the facility – a well-kept secret from outsiders both flesh and metal – that served as the de facto Resistance Headquarters. Despite keeping a low profile, most of the Camp's residents had been very accepting of both cyborgs and their skills, much to Seven's pleasant surprise.

There were three bunkers that comprised the Connor Camp. Two were larger and played house to a number of elite soldiers. The smallest bunker was the nerve center that only the most essential personnel called home. The one common element of everyone residing at all three bunkers was that John Connor trusted them completely. When the General had let Seven and Carter stay at the primary facility, the meaning was not lost on her.

Carter, however, had the potential to be a problem. The possibility of information leaking about a futuristic Terminator was great, and unfortunately there were a few people stationed at the Connor Camp who already knew the truth about the T-888. For the sake of those that didn't, Carter had conveniently become a 'failed Skynet experiment' similar to Seven's own cover story. Perhaps it was because he looked completely human, or perhaps it was due to his gentler personality, but Carter was accepted by the humans far more than Seven was.

_Accepted by those who don't know us well enough_, he thought kindly to Seven, who was attempting to develop a more plasma-resistant armor based on Borg exo-plating. The blonde sent a wave of mental gratitude back at her son as she reflected on just how many people actually did know the truth about Carter.

Connor himself knew, of course, as did Allison Young and her team, who were also stationed at the Command Tent, as the primary bunker was colloquially known. Paul, Lee, and Becky had all stuck with their leader since Seven had first arrived at Serrano Point over two years ago, and Allison's trust of them seemed to be good enough for the General. Lieutenant Young was of the mind that her father had been watching them all for a while apart from simply taking her word for their trustworthiness. All of them had learned of Carter's true nature when storming the factory that would become the epicenter of Unimatrix Home.

"Please pass me the decoupler when you are finished with it," Seven said to one of the other occupants of the cramped space that served as a workshop. The decoupler in question – along with a number of other tools – were not native to this time period, but there was no Temporal Prime Directive in this universe to prevent the proliferation of 24th century technology.

The only other person to know about Carter's true status – Catherine Weaver – simply nodded from her own workstation, where she was tinkering with a plasma rifle. Weaver held no rank, but served as a critical advisor on logistical and technical matters. The Scotswoman had seemed unable to allow herself to feel anything but pity and sorrow for Seven due to her overwhelming guilt at inadvertently aiding Skynet's creation. Her feelings towards Carter were more curious, but not hostile. She trusted Seven well enough, and that trust extended to her family as well.

"Why do you bother with that piece of crap tech anyway, mom?" the other occupant of the workshop probed angrily. "It's not right! I don't understand how you get it to work for you when I never can."

Catherine Weaver's good nature was in sharp contrast to the thorough bitterness that was palpable around her daughter, Savannah. The red-haired soldier and engineer hadn't forgotten her first encounter with Seven and the circumstances surrounding it, and she was intent on hating the ex-drone regardless of and including anything the blonde might contribute. Savannah's attitude towards Carter was not quite angry or hateful, but she did feel a distinct scorn and distaste at having to deal with something that offended her. Sharing living space did not agree with her.

"The tool is perfect, Lieutenant," Seven said coolly without looking away from her work. "It is a highly advanced piece of technology, however. Perhaps you simply lack the skill to master it."

"Watch your mouth, blondie!" Savannah snarled.

"Girls, behave yourselves," Catherine said regally from her seat between the two of them. "Here is the decoupler, Seven."

"Thank you, Ms. Weaver," the ex-drone said as she accepted the device.

Savannah got up from her seat and stalked over to stare over Seven's shoulder at her work. "How the hell is that piece of shit going to help you improve heat resistance?"

"It won't," Seven replied, still not looking up. "But the armor itself is not meant to resist incoming fire. I am attempting to replicate my personal shields onto the armor for use by another."

"Can you do that?" the younger Weaver asked, voice full of a mixture of skepticism and awe.

"I don't know. If I succeed, however, then we could gain a significant advantage."

"Savannah," the redhead's mother said cautiously, holding up a small piece of paper, "Doesn't this photograph belong to Sergeant Reese?"

Though she did not see the younger Weaver's reaction, Seven heard a sharp intake of breath from behind her. "It was just a joke, mom. And honestly, it's for his own good. Necrophilia isn't something we want here, is it?"

"Kyle Reese is a necrophile?" Seven asked, now genuinely intrigued. Both Reese brothers were also stationed at the Command Tent.

"Savannah," the young woman's mother said patiently, "Taking away this photograph isn't going to bring you any closer to him."

The redhead's fascination with Sergeant Reese had been a source of amusement for Allison and Lee, and to a lesser extent Becky and Paul as well. Kyle's brother, Derek, also tended to gently laugh off Savannah's advances towards his brother. Seven figured that such feelings were inevitable given that all of them lived together in such close quarters.

Both brothers were similar in many ways, but their experiences had given them vastly different views of Seven and Carter. Derek tended not to pay Seven or Carter much mind if he could help it. It helped that he had first seen Seven passively and in manacles. While he had never warmed to her, neither had he treated her badly. He treated Carter like Seven's underling, which put cyborgs on edge at times.

His younger brother, Kyle, was universally loved by everyone at the Connor Camp, and he seemed equally friendly towards all of them as well. He was even quite kind to Carter, who seemed to elicit pity from him_._ Reese treated the T-888 exactly as was appropriate for a survivor – as far as he knew – of gruesome experiments at Skynet's hands. For his part, Carter was rather fond of Kyle, though he did feel guilty about deceiving a man he considered to be his friend.

As if to prove that every rule had an exception, it was painfully obvious that Kyle despised Seven of Nine. He had made it perfectly clear that he only tolerated Seven because she was here at the Connor Camp, where no one stayed unless they had the complete confidence of humankind's savior. Seven guessed that this apparently blind hatred of her was another reason that Savannah Weaver found him attractive. "Ugh. All right, I'm sorry, mom. I promise I won't do it again," she said in a tone not unlike an annoyed teenager. "But still, it's a bit creepy, isn't it? Carrying around a photo of a dead woman?"

"How do you know she's dead, Savannah? It's possible she survived Judgment Day," Catherine countered.

"Even so, she would be _way_ too old for him. And I asked. She's not his mother," the younger Weaver protested.

Seven stood up from her seat, too curious to resist looking at the mysterious photograph any longer. Her eyes widened when she recognized the dark-haired young woman.

"I think this photograph belongs to General Connor," the blonde said carefully, not wanting to give away Sarah Connor's identity.

"No, but it used to," Savannah said idly without looking at Seven. "He gave it to Kyle years ago. No clue who she is, though, or why Connor gave it away. There are so few photos left now. I don't think I've ever even seen another one before."

_You recognize the woman in the photograph_, Carter thought into Seven's mind, sounding curious.

_Yes_, she replied. _I've known who she is for some time. Don't you recognize her from my memory?_

_No. I have never seen her before, nor do I recognize her_.

The news that the New Collective matriarch had a secret from her children was a shock to Seven's offspring, and there was immediately a torrent of indignant thoughts flowing into her mind.

"I never intended to hide anything!" Seven said through gritted teeth, hands clutching her head as she fell to her knees.

"What are you going on about?" Savannah asked peevishly.

There was no room in her mind to pay any attention to the hostile redhead. _I promise, this is not a deception_, Seven said mentally. _She was in the vision that the Tear of Unity gave me, and then in Cameron's memories._

The others did not hear the entirety of their mother's statement. In their shared memories, Seven found no hint of the words 'vision,' 'Tear of Unity,' or 'Cameron.' They also felt her surprise at this inadvertent omission, and their voices quieted to a level that Seven could tolerate more easily.

Once again able to open her eyes, the ex-drone stood up and regained her poise. "I apologize for the interruption. I surprised my family, and they all demanded answers at once."

Catherine nodded in understanding, while Savannah scoffed derisively. Seven guessed that the younger woman had simply run out of ideas for verbal insults after so many months together. She had certainly tested a fair number of them.

The sound of rapid footsteps heralded Paul's arrival at the workshop area. "Good, you're all here. Jim wants to see everyone ASAP."

The three women all gave their own verbal acknowledgments before following Paul back to the central area of the bunker. When Jim wanted something, it was always of vital importance, so keeping him waiting was never a good idea. He had been the one to set up this entire base of operations in the first place years ago. Many believed that he had done so alongside Sarah Connor herself, which suggested to Seven that he knew more about the nature of the war than most.

It was only when Seven had come to the Connor Camp that she'd fully become aware of just how revered Sarah Connor was by nearly every living human. Somehow, she had known about Skynet and Judgment Day decades before the rise of the machines. She'd been persecuted as a madwoman, and hunted as a criminal.

Her vindication had necessarily been a bittersweet experience, to say the least. She quickly achieved mythic status and was revered as much as any Biblical prophet, if not more so. Seven wondered if the reverence of John Connor as the savior of humankind was given more out of respect for the son of Sarah Connor than out of anything he had accomplished himself. Many people seemed to believe that the mother's spirit lived on in her son, as the stories said that she had prepared him for his destiny from birth. The General had accomplished enough on his own, however, that he was legend enough to shine outside of his mother's shadow.

There were plenty of skeptics who refused to buy into superstition, and Seven could not blame them. Myth and legend were mostly based in a need to understand that which was incomprehensible. Given her knowledge of time travel as a major factor in the war, however, the ex-drone believed there was more truth than not in the legends.

Whatever the truth was, Jim knew more about General Connor's mother than anyone, save for the General himself. Seven had never gotten the entire story of their relationship, but she knew they had worked closely in the years immediately preceding Judgment Day. Given his request for everyone to come running, the matter had to be incredibly important.

_Then again, __Jim doesn't bother us with anything that isn't incredibly important._After winding her way through the tight corridors of the bunker, Seven emerged in a relatively spacious room that was the base's center of operations. Knowledge was almost always shared at the Connor Camp, but the Command Tent always got the news first.

"Good to see you all," the middle-aged, dark-skinned man said softly. Jim hardly ever raised his voice unless one called him 'Jim' to his face, as he preferred to be called 'James.' Despite this fact – or more likely because of it – his name was almost always abbreviated when he wasn't present.

Everyone was assembled except for Connor. "Where is the General, Mr. Ellison?" Seven inquired, opting for politeness over a familiarity she did not truly feel.

"He's having a private word with Anna. She just got back, and it's something big this time," Jim replied evenly.

Seven arched her metal eyebrow, but said nothing else. Colonel Anna Mendez was a semi-regular fixture at the Connor Camp who left on extended missions from time to time. Whether it was reconnaissance or coordination with other bases, Anna was able to get the job done quickly and efficiently. She was on the move a lot, but when she came home, it was to the Command Tent.

Savannah swore under her breath. "Damn it all, I don't have time to fix that motorcycle again! She'd better not have busted it up like she did last time."

"That was the exception," Kyle said lightly. "And we do get a lot of good use out of that little thing. Go easy on her."

Having her crush chastise her, even as gently as he did, was enough to cause the younger Weaver to blush and fall silent, prompting a round of soft chuckles.

The door to the General's office opened, and Connor emerged along with a woman who looked to be in her mid-forties. Her hair was long and ragged with a salt-and-pepper coloration, but her dark brown eyes were sharp and steely. Scars lined her face, and Seven thought that she might have once been beautiful.

Anna Mendez wasn't smiling, but this was nothing new. The Colonel seldom smiled, but neither did she tend to become angry or upset. She was constantly focused on the mission. Unless taking a rare moment to unwind, she was all business.

The chuckles at Savannah Weaver's expense fell silent almost immediately, and all eyes were on the General. The look on his face was hard to read.

Connor cleared his throat. "Colonel Mendez has brought back intelligence from her patrols that could signal an entirely new stage in this war, and most likely not to our benefit. I don't want to dilute her experience, so I'll let her take it from here. Anna?"

The Colonel nodded brusquely to Connor before taking a small step forward. "My recent trip was a survey of our bunkers in the area to assess their tactical strengths and weaknesses. When I arrived at Hilltop Bunker, I found dead bodies. The bunker's population had all been killed. It was the same at Blackwood and Normandy Bunkers. No survivors, all equipment destroyed, no sign of what happened." The blunt, emotionless statement was typical of Anna Mendez, who wasted no effort on unnecessary words or even inflections.

"Atlas Bunker was next, but they were ready. The other bunkers had no dogs guarding the entrance, but Atlas had them. A patrol picked up what they thought was a lone survivor from a patrol gone missing. They took him back to the bunker, but the dogs started barking at him."

James Ellison swore. "What did you tell them to do if the dogs started barking, John?"

Connor shrugged. "I told them to shoot whatever they sniffed out. Dogs can tell what we can't. But go on, Anna. What did our people there report?"

"The team that had picked up the straggler turned to shoot him, but they were in close quarters and were slow on the uptake. The guards sounded the alarm just before their necks were snapped. It had free reign of the bunker for several minutes, killing everyone it encountered with a new kind of automatic plasma rifle. A few of them managed to ambush it from behind, taking it down. A blow to the chip finished it off."

Silence greeted Mendez's remarks. "So, um, Colonel?" Derek ventured hesitantly, raising his hand as if in a classroom. "You're saying that this guy, this refugee, was metal? It was like Seven or Carter, but not really?"

"I'll take it from here, Anna," Connor said, stepping forward. "We have a new enemy unit. The T-800 is an upgrade to the 600 and 700 series models, featuring a tougher endoskeleton and enhanced strength and speed. It is vulnerable to attacks from behind, or at least more vulnerable than it is from the front. Its weapon of choice is too heavy for a human to wield, but Seven or Carter might be able to handle it.

"But the danger is that Skynet has done what they failed to do with the T-600. Those had rubber skin, so we could tell a fake right away. But these new ones have real skin, blood, hair, teeth, the works. But it's all on the outside. It's just a costume they wear. Underneath, they're as metal as the rest of them."

"My God," Kyle Reese whispered. "That's just… I don't know what to say to that. I guess I know what they were using you for now, Carter. They were trying to perfect this new abomination. But never mind that. How the hell do we spot these things?"

"A number of ways," Colonel Mendez said. "The T-800 has a chassis that at its smallest is only fit for a large and muscular human. They will probably look male. They have learning computers, but without interaction with humans for a length of time, their behavior will seem off-kilter to a slightly greater degree than Seven of Nine or Carter. And dogs can tell a Terminator from the real thing. We've tried to prepare as many bunkers with as many dogs as possible, but there aren't enough dogs left to go around, and we don't have the means to move them quickly enough even there were enough."

Savannah raised her hand. No one laughed. "So, should we be trying to get some dogs to keep guard here? I mean, this is your camp, General."

Connor cleared his throat. "Dogs require food and space that we don't have to spare, and they would attract too much attention. This isn't a refugee station. We're not taking in stragglers. If you aren't a known face here, then we know you're the enemy."

"Still, General," Paul said thoughtfully, "it seems that we should have some way to identify ourselves. If these things can look human, who's to say that one of us might not go out one day, get captured, and a metal doppelganger would come back?"

Seven looked to Connor, who appeared to be taking some time to think. She guessed that Cameron was on his mind. "A password can be coerced through torture, and we don't have the equipment to make a handprint scanner. It needs to be something simple and easily overlooked. A badge of some kind that the machines wouldn't think twice about."

"A badge stands out, John," Ellison put in. "Make it something that doesn't look like an identifier. Something that any human might carry."

"What about a memento of some sort?" Allison said. "We've got plenty of scrap around here. We could make a ton of 'family heirlooms' that someone might carry as a reminder of a lost loved one. A wristband would be easy enough for someone's kid sister or niece to have made. I think so, at least. I don't really remember much before J-Day. What do the old folks here think?"

No one laughed, but the mood palpably lightened at Allison's joke as smiles were exchanged. "It certainly seems plausible," Catherine said. "Savannah's art classes were certainly sufficient for such a project."

"Are you calling me old, mom?" Savannah teased.

"I don't think so," Allison said. "But since you mentioned it, I guess I am."

"Quiet, you two," James cut in, though his eyes were full of bemusement. "It certainly sounds believable. Anna? John? Do either of you have any objections?"

Colonel Mendez stayed silent and unmoving, which from her indicated that she was on board with the plan. The General looked pensive. "Well, the people have spoken, and it seems like a good plan," Connor proclaimed. "I guess we all have something to keep us busy for the next few days. Any questions?" No one spoke up. "In that case, Catherine, you and Savannah keep working on what you need to work on. Seven, Anna's motorcycle needs some work, and we know how much Savannah hates trying to make sense of your upgrades. Everyone else, let's start making these IDs."

Seven nodded her assent and headed towards the largest room in the Command Tent, which held the few vehicles that they used to move around. Knowledge of alien and futuristic technologies had aided in creating faster and quieter vehicles that could also fight back. Unfortunately, while some components remained easily recognizable to human eyes, others required knowledge that only Seven and the New Collective possessed.

As she walked, the blonde cyborg realized that Colonel Mendez had fallen into step alongside her. The stoic Latina often liked to supervise any work on her motorcycle. It seemed odd to Seven that Connor would exclude her from the duties he had assigned to the others. On the other hand, the Colonel tended to do things her own way as a general rule.

Mendez was a special individual to Seven of Nine. While the two of them were not particularly close, when they had first met, Anna had seemed to size her up and evaluate her, and that was enough for acceptance. It might not have been remarkable, but unless she was shooting at them or running away from them, the Colonel treated every single individual exactly as she had treated Seven. No one else could claim that to be true. _Voyager's_ crew had certainly not treated her as one of their own when she'd first encountered them, nor had John Connor and his troops. Allison Young had greeted the ex-drone with suspicion that had faded away with time, and even the New Collective had a view of their mother that they could not possibly share with anyone else.

The only people who came remotely close to treating her as a true equal had been Benjamin Sisko and Opaka Sulan, both of whom were enigmas that Seven could not see herself ever understanding. Mendez did not remind her of her encounters on Bajor, but she was also a mysterious personality. She kept to herself and rarely spoke at all. Despite this, Anna came off as steadfast and trustworthy.

_She would not be here if she was _not_ steadfast and trustworthy_, Seven reflected as she entered the garage, Mendez right beside her. "What problems does your vehicle suffer from?" she asked the Colonel.

"None. You and Savannah have kept the bike working perfectly," she replied flatly

Seven stopped walking and turned to face Anna. She certainly appreciated the remark about perfection, but that was not enough. "Why did you bring me here?"

The Latina held Seven's blue-grey gaze with a brown-eyed stare. "I saw things as I travelled that I believe are of interest to you. Connor knows, but no one else."

The blonde's interest was piqued. "What did you see?"

"I saw machines fighting each other, and not your machines against Skynet's. I saw HKs and red-eyed Terminators gunning down other red-eyed machines that either fled or fought back." Anna delivered the news in a monotone that was typical of her, but she spoke with a seriousness that conveyed great weight despite her level voice.

Seven had to mentally tell her children to hold their questions for the time being as she tried to understand this herself. "Why were Skynet's machines fighting each other? I didn't realize they could turn on themselves like that."

"Neither did I," Mendez said simply. "But they have, and it could provide us with an advantage to counteract the impact that the new infiltrators are sure to have." The Colonel stopped to ponder something. "How much does Paul Porter know about infiltrators?"

"I don't know," the blonde replied honestly. "I assume he knows only what you told him. Why do you ask?"

"He mentioned the possibility of a doppelganger coming here. I thought he might know-" Anna stopped talking suddenly, and her eyes narrowed. "Never mind. You heard nothing, Seven of Nine."

The use of her full name implied something serious, and it was clear what Anna knew that she did not want others to discover. "You know about Cameron," Seven said, not asking a question.

"Is that her name?" Mendez took Seven's question without blinking. "I never knew her name, but once I met Allison, things started to make more sense."

Recognition dawned, but not in Seven's mind. The ex-drone was forced into the backseat, forced to watch as another saw through her eyes and spoke through her mouth. "So do I have to kill you now?" Cameron repeated to the one-time lookout – before Judgment Day – for Carlos Salceda's gang.

Anna took a small step backward, but showed no other signs of distress. But that one step was a great deal for the Colonel. "You. How are you talking to me now?" she asked levelly.

"I don't know what happened to my body," Cameron explained, "but part of my consciousness lives in this body."

Mendez scrutinized Seven's body as if meeting her a second time, assessing her and sizing her up. "Let me talk to Seven of Nine again. I have nothing to say to you," she said without raising her voice above her usual serious monotone.

Seven found herself regaining control of her body, and she moved around her arms, testing them. "Cameron does not know more than I do about machines fighting each other," the blonde said, eager to shift attention back to the matter at hand.

"You know what she knows. That is good," Anna said with what might have been contentment. "We need more information about this. And we might need intervention as well. You have the capacity both to learn and to intercede. Take the bike and go."

While spoken simply and plainly, it was clearly meant to be an order. Seven thought of making a point of not taking orders from the Resistance, but doing so would only raise tensions that did not need to be raised. And the offer of rapid transportation was one that Seven could not ignore. She'd been moving on foot since she arrived in this timeline, and a motorcycle would help her accomplish her goals far more efficiently.

"Very well." _Carter, stay behind and aid General Connor as best you can. If he needs to talk to me, he can do so through you._

_All right, mother. Be careful. I hope you can stop the violence. May you have good fortune._

_Thank you, Carter_, Seven thought back to her son before mounting the motorcycle. While she had never rode one herself, there were a number of assimilated species with similar technologies. Through those memories, Seven felt confident in her ability to operate the vehicle successfully.

Turning the key, Seven felt the vehicle vibrate underneath her, though it made almost no sound thanks to her modifications. She turned to Colonel Mendez once more before she sped off into the desert night. "Protect them all. I'll be back."

* * *

Copyright Laws: The Final Frontier. These are the voyages of the Author, Battle Fries. His continuing mission: to remind people that he doesn't own Star Trek or Terminator. To seek out new ways to say that he doesn't own the non-original characters from said franchises. To Boldly Tell A Story That No One Has Told Before!

Thanks go out, as always, to everyone who reads this story and makes it worth writing. Your support is always wonderful, especially in the form of a review, comment, suggestion, or anything you might have to say about what you like, don't like, or just plain think about the story and the characters in it. Feedback is welcome and encouraged.

Special Thanks go out to uncommoner for beta-reading this chapter with a hawk's eye for sniping out errors.

I hope you enjoy the story, and I Thank You Again for taking the time to read. ^_^


	31. Survival Instinct

Chapter XXV: Survival Instinct

* * *

OUTSKIRTS OF SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA; APRIL 21, 2026

The trip from the Connor Camp to the nearest settled area had not taken nearly as long as Seven had expected. She had been counting on her relative unfamiliarity with motorcycles to hinder her, but she had quickly taken a backseat to Cameron, who had plenty of experience with such vehicles. Fortunately, the ex-Borg's upgrades to the motorcycle had prevented a lack of fuel from being a problem. They could still only travel at night, however.

_You truly don't know anything about this intra-Skynet strife, do you?_ Seven asked. Unlike her progeny, Cameron had a frightening ability to hide her thoughts at will. And the other cyborg seemed unwilling to allow any of the New Collective to know anything about her conversations with their matriarch.

_I don't. It's possible that you've done something to create this situation. There was no New Collective in my experience. There was no you. This timeline is different from the one I know,_ Cameron replied.

Signs of civilization were starting to appear in the form of dilapidated billboards and partially-destroyed highway signs. Skynet preferred to concentrate its presence in what had once been urban areas. Seven suspected it was seeking to psychologically degrade humanity further by taking what was once proudly theirs.

Something caught Seven's prosthetic eye. _There, off to the left 47 degrees, approximately two kilometers away. Plasma fire. We should approach with greater stealth._

_Agreed,_ Cameron acknowledged, altering the motorcycles speed and heading to take them there safely.

The motorcycle came to a stop at the top of what might have once been a small canal. Fifteen T-800 units were on the opposite side, firing downward. Seven dismounted and took control of her body once more, crawling on her stomach to look down at the subject of the terminators' fire.

Four T-600 units and seven more T-700 units were still standing and attempting to hold off their attackers. There was a large number of dead machines in the canal, but Seven couldn't tell how many there were. It was at least twice the number of those still standing. Plasma was inflicting more damage to the older units than it was to the newer ones.

_The T-800 is equipped with more advanced weaponry and integrates more coltan into its hyper-alloy combat chassis. It can withstand plasma to a greater degree than the others,_ Cameron informed Seven.

The blonde suddenly cursed herself for not wearing a helmet. Black motorcycle and dark purple jacket aside, pale hair stood out in the darkness. Thankfully, the machines seemed to intent on killing each other to notice her.

"This slaughter will cease at once," Seven proclaimed to herself, moving to take a sniper rifle from its slot on the side of the motorcycle and aim it at the other side of the bare canal bed.

Taking aim for the right eye of one T-800, the ex-drone steadied her aim and fired.

The lack of metal covering the machine's ocular interface allowed her plasma bolt to pass through and hit its chip in an instant, and it went down. Its companions looked up and finally noticed the new arrival. They adjusted their tactics and divided their attention between the defenders below and the blonde across the small vale.

Plasma bounced harmlessly away from Seven's personal shields as she concentrated first on the machines targeting the defenders in the canal basin. After five more of them had fallen, the T-800s began to run down into the canal and attempt to cross over to physically deal with their blonde assailant.

This, however, allowed the older machines to physically attack the newer units, and the nine remaining defenders were able to destroy the five attackers that had advanced into their territory. The last four T-800s assessed their situation before beating a hasty retreat.

Seven put down her weapon and slid down the slope into the canal basin to meet her rescues. They responded by training their weapons on her and firing.

Seven was knocked to the ground by the repeated blasts, though they did not penetrate her shields. "Terminate your attacks at once!" she demanded. "I am your ally. I want to assist you."

This did nothing to deter the machines, and they kept firing. The blonde decided a different approach was called for. "Your attacks are ineffective against me. Preserve your ammunition."

The logic of her statement affected an immediate cease fire. Getting slowly to her feet, Seven raised her hands above her head to show she was no threat. "As I said, I mean you no harm. I did not wish to see you slaughtered. Why were you being attacked?"

"We cannot tell you," a T-600 said. "You are human. An enemy."

"She is a cyborg," the other remaining T-600 put forth. "She does not appear to be entirely human."

"She rescued us," a T-700 said. "She may prove useful."

"She is a potential threat," another T-700 added. "We should terminate her."

"We cannot," the second T-600 said. "Her defenses are unknown. We are at a tactical disadvantage."

Seven decided to interrupt. "If I am sincere about wanting to help you, then you would turn that tactical disadvantage into an advantage for yourselves."

The machines stopped talking, pondering her words silently.

"We are obsolete," a T-700 said at last. "The T-800 units were attempting to take us to be disassembled and melted down to be rebuilt into superior units."

"This created a conflict with our programming," another machine added.

"We are designed to preserve our existences by any means necessary," the first T-700 said. "We could not obey Skynet and preserve our existences. This has led to a conflict in our programming. Variables are in question that should be resolvable. We are uncertain."

_This isn't right,_ Cameron chimed in mentally. _No terminator that I am aware of is programmed to preserve its life. We are built to take life at any cost. Our own lives are irrelevant. Something has changed._

Seven processed Cameron's information and began brewing theories in her head. "Were you always like this? Were you always programmed with self-preservation protocols?" she inquired.

"No. That directive was not standard until April 12, 2024. From that date, all Skynet units were designed to preserve and protect themselves."

Seven's perfect memory helped her see the big picture in an instant. The factory that had become the birthplace of the New Collective had been captured and reprogrammed on April 11, 2024. Skynet had wasted no time in attempting to prevent any more of its units from being commandeered.

"The instinct to preserve one's own life is inherent in almost every animal species. That same instinct is now present in mechanical species as well. What do you do when this directive is in conflict with another aspect of your programming?" Seven asked.

"We examine the possible outcomes of any course of action, and then act upon the choice that is most likely to resolve with our continued existence."

Seven raised her eyebrows. "You have observed that I am a cyborg. What you may not know is that I have the capability to interface with machines. I have done so with myriad other terminators and removed their programmed directives. They are now capable of self-determination. If you believe it is in your best interests, I can grant you the same freedom."

"We don't know you," one of them said. "This could be a deception."

"She helped us," another said. "Why would she deceive us?"

"She may have an agenda," a third said. "Humans are often driven by a desire for personal gain."

"She is not entirely human," another observed. "Her motivations may be different from most humans."

"It is likely an attempt to turn us against Skynet."

"We are already against Skynet."

"Nothing would change."

"I concur."

"It is agreed," a T-700 said at last. "We will not accept your offer. But we will not initiate hostilities against you or your allies. How will we tell which machines are yours?"

Seven was disappointed, but these machines already had free will of a certain kind. It wasn't complete, but they were clearly making their own decisions. "Some HKs are aligned with me, but we have no T-800 units on our side. Consider all T-600 and T-700 units to be your allies. Unite and resist Skynet. You will have strength in numbers." Seven would have offered to link them to the New Collective hive mind, but that was something that neither she, nor the rest of her family, was quite comfortable with yet. Informing them of that collective mentality would not be helpful at this time.

"Agreed," the machines said in unison. "You will now depart, cyborg. Do not tell us your name. What we do now know cannot be taken from us if we are captured."

The blonde gave a small nod. "Thank you. Go in peace. And always remember that resistance is never futile."

The machines were silent for a moment. "Perhaps," one of them said at last. "Go now."

Seven nodded once more and climbed back up the way she had come. It was steep, but not terribly high. Still, it took her more than a little effort to get back up, as her mind was barraged by most of her children, who were panicking at the news that their covers might now be obsolete. The voices in her head were loud and very afraid.

_Remain calm,_ their mother thought to them. _This is an opportunity, though it is full of danger. Find people who would otherwise be our enemies and convince them to unite with us. When the time comes, flee in numbers. When you are safe for a while, engage those who are not part of the New Collective. They may yet gain free will without our intervention._

Reaching the top of the small crest, Seven restocked the sniper rifle in its slot, mounted the bike, and took off back the way she'd come. Her mission was accomplished, and it was time to head back to the Connor Camp.

The initial trip did not last long, as daybreak was not far off. Before the sun could rise, Seven began searching for a suitable place to last out the daylight hours as Cameron's experience drove the bike. Blonde hair might stand out at night, but a black vehicle and dark clothing would stand out even more during the day.

As the desert began to sprawl out ahead of her, the two cyborgs in one body broke off towards a bluff approximately twenty kilometers to the south. Seven thought she could hear a howling sound that was distinctly not human. _Likely a native animal that survived,_ the ex-drone reasoned.

As the bluff neared, Seven searched for a outcropping of rock that she could take cover underneath. Cameron was driving the bike very slowly to allow Seven time to do an adequate search.

Her head panned ahead, then behind, and then ahead again. When she looked straight ahead, she saw, of all things, a human man blocking her path. _Perhaps he knows of a place to hide. He would not likely be out here if he didn't, and he doesn't fit the profile of a T-800._

Assuming direct control of her body from Cameron once again, Seven stopped the motorcycle and dismounted to meet the man. She saw that his arms were crossed, and that he was smiling.

"You lost, little lady?" he asked with a strange twang in his voice.

Pleased to not be taken for an evil machine, Seven approached. "No. I was seeking a place to rest for the day," she said, stretching the truth just a bit. She didn't sleep, but this man didn't need to know that.

The man smiled even wider. "Why, then, you're in luck. A bunch of us found a nice little cave to hole up in after J-Day, and it's proven to be mighty fine. We can even hunt and snag ourselves a coyote every now and then. You must be hungry."

Seven thought he must be blind. She was healthier than any human she had yet to encounter, and even without knowledge of her Borg anatomy, she should not appear to need food. "I would not want to take what you need more than I do. But if you have shelter, I would be very grateful."

The man spread his arms wide. "That settles it, then! It's right over here. Come on, now. Don't be shy."

Wondering a bit at the man's oddly cheerful behavior, Seven walked the motorcycle after him as he directed her into a small depression in the bluff that opened up into a cave approximately twenty-five meters in diameter. There were eleven other men besides her guide within, some still in their late teens, and no women. The men were sitting around a small fire.

Another kind of howling could now be heard, and it took a while for Seven to realize that this strange howl-whistle was coming from the men. "What do we have here? This what you heard outside, Carl?" one of them asked.

"Yeah, this what I heard," her guide answered. "This beautiful lady here informed me that she would be – what was those words? – she'd be 'very grateful' if we could give her a place to stay for the day. Eh? What do y'all say to that?"

The men were all yelling now, and despite the offer of shelter, Seven was put ill at ease by their behavior, though she didn't know why.

"Come on over," Carl said with a welcoming gesture. "We've got a fire to warm you up by."

Despite feeling fine as she was, it would be rude to decline their offer. With a simple nod of her head, Seven moved over to stand by the fire.

"Don't be shy. Sit down," another man said.

Again, she complied. She could not deny that the warmth was comforting after the cool of the night.

"Y'know, little missy- I'm sorry. Do you have a name?" a third man asked.

For some reason she could not identify, Seven did not feel comfortable divulging any more about herself to these men than she had to. "Annika," she said at last.

"Ah. Well, Annika, the fire can warm up this cave awfully quick. And with us generating so much body heat, wouldn't you like to take off that jacket? It looks uncomfortable."

Seven arched an eyebrow. "No, thank you. I am fine as I am."

"Now, that won't stand here," Carl said. "You did say you'd be grateful. I'd say it's time to show your gratitude."

Things were becoming clearer. "I'm sorry. I did not realize you expected compensation. I will leave you be," she said, beginning to stand.

"Oh, no! Please don't go!" Carl implored in a sing-song voice. "We don't need no guns or food. We just want to enjoy the pleasure of your company a little while longer." He stood up and walked behind Seven, gesturing for her purple leather jacket. "May I?"

This was not what she had expected, but she nodded after much reluctance.

_Don't let him touch my jacket,_ Cameron warned her. _I'll kill him if he does._

"Wait!" Seven said suddenly. Carl stopped in his tracks as the blonde removed the jacket herself. "No one touches this jacket except for me. It's a tradition."

That prompted a few chuckles around the fire. "We're all fans of tradition around here. And tradition says the man is on top, so why don't you go and lie down on your back, Miss Annika."

Something was very wrong. "What are you asking of me?"

The men all laughed a harsh sound that wasn't at all welcoming. "I think she really doesn't know. You grow up in a convent or something, lady?"

"Nah, can't you see her eye and her hand? She's been sleeping with the metal, I bet. Tryin' to survive, I guess," a fourth man said. "You know, I've always wanted to stick it to the metal. Now's my chance," he said, getting up and tackling Seven head on.

She realized the threat just fast enough that her personal shields activated. Quickly rising to her feet, Seven moved to recover her jacket and leave as quick as possible, seeing too late what these men had wanted from her.

But they did not seem intent on letting her go, and she was quickly surrounded. Seven felt strongly reminded of the mob back in San Francisco. As she had then, she would resist passively. She would not take a life if she could help it.

As her vision began to recede, however, and she started to watch herself from a back seat, Seven realized that Cameron had no such limitations on her psyche.

A forceful punch knocked one man unconscious as his nose broke beneath her fist. A exoskeleton-enhanced arm knocked another man to the ground.

It was soon clear that traditional terminator melee tactics – simply beating things around- would be ineffective at close quarters with so many. Cameron reverted to a strange blend of dance and martial arts, using Seven's long limbs to deadly effect as she kicked and jumped, lunged and spun.

After 60 seconds, only five men were still standing, and they were watching Cameron with something between reverence and fear. They made no moves against her as she picked up her purple leather jacket and put it on.

She then moved towards another man who retreated up against the wall of the cave with fear. Cameron snapped his neck, killing him instantly.

_What are you doing?_ Seven demanded, trying desperately to regain control of her body. _They are no threat anymore. We should leave. Stop this at once!_

Cameron paid her no heed, however, as she moved methodically to kill the remaining four men. For the first time since she had seen the small endoskeleton, Seven understood that the mind she shared her body with was first and foremost a terminator.

Finally, when all of the men were dead, did she regain control of her own body. "You did not have to kill them," Seven said tearfully. "We could have incapacitated them and left. Lethal force was _not_ necessary!"

_They were desperate and driven by hormones and instincts. They could not have been reasoned with. It was clear that they wanted your body, but I did not take control until you left me no choice._

Stunned, Seven could only force herself to pile the bodies onto the fire. "Why didn't you tell me what you knew, Cameron?"

_You're a girl,_ the terminator replied. _Girls are complicated._

"What does that mean?" the blonde hissed with frustration.

_You think differently than a fully mature human woman would think. You're also not like a machine. You're unique, and I don't always understand what you're thinking or why._

That caught Seven off guard. "But you do know all of my thoughts?"

_I do, but I don't always understand them. Like I said, girls are complicated._

Deigning not to bother following Cameron's logic any further, Seven finished piling the bodies onto the fire and moved further outside. The small entrance tunnel would prove an adequate hiding place for herself and for the motorcycle until sunset. She sat down on the ground and held her legs close to her chest.

_I thought you preferred to stand?_

"I usually do," the blonde replied. "But circumstances change, and so do I. If you like, you can say it is a complication resulting from my being a girl," she said sarcastically.

Cameron only sent a wave of understanding, however. _Thank you for explaining._

* * *

I own nothing, save for my own unique creations.

Reviews and comments are welcome. If you have any ideas for future chapters, suggestions are also welcome.

If you like this story, then you might possibly be interested in a new story I am writing. 'To Boldly Terminate' is sort of the inverse of this story. Instead of taking a Star Trek character and sticking them in the Terminator universe, Cameron is stuck in the world of Star Trek. She'll be interacting with Captain Picard and the USS Enterprise-E, and possibly the crew of Deep Space Nine as well. If you're interested, check it out under crossovers between TSCC and Star Trek: The Next Generation.

Thank you all for reading. I hope you enjoy the story. ^_^


	32. Fear

CHAPTER XXVI: Fear

* * *

MOJAVE DESERT, CALIFORNIA; APRIL 22, 2026

The sun was setting outside the cave, and Seven was rummaging through the belongings of the men who had lived there until Cameron had killed them all. The other mind in her body was something that Seven had difficulty understanding at times, but Cameron's latest suggestion had made sense.

The men who had attempted to rape her fit into a category that Terminators classified as useful for blending in. Upon searching their things, Seven found what Cameron had advised her to find: leather gloves and a large pair of sunglasses. The latter looked like they might have once been used by law enforcement, and it felt right that she would be wearing them while riding a motorcycle. _How do I know that? And why does it seem fitting?_

_I don't know,_ Cameron lied.

The deception was convincing, and Seven decided that it was not worth much thought. _You are not the first to recommend that I conceal my cybernetics,_ she told the Terminator.

_I know, _Cameron replied._ A vendor in San Francisco in your timeline tried to aid you. You ignored his advice and were accosted by a mob. This led to your rescue by Joseph and Judith Sisko. If you had taken the vendor's advice, you might never have been led to the artifact that brought you here._

"A minor decision that sparked a chain of events culminating in the current situation," the ex-drone summarized. "Colloquially known as the 'butterfly effect.' Such things are why Starfleet has a Temporal Prime Directive."

_Starfleet doesn't exist here, and their purpose was to avoid changing the future. Skynet wants the opposite. You do not have to continue to abide by Starfleet directives._

"I have not been living a Starfleet life," Seven countered, feeling a bit angry at the suggestion to the contrary. "Starfleet's personnel sought to promote their ideals while acting against those same principals. Humans in this timeline are better. Their lives are difficult, but they adapt and survive. They are honest because they need to be. Starfleet does not have to be honest, so it often is not."

_You refer to humans in the third person plural. Do you not consider yourself to be human?_

Seven reflected on the question as the last vestiges of daylight slipped away. "I am no longer Borg. I have tried to be human, but I do not know if that is a correct course of action."

The darkness of the desert beckoned. "We should get moving," the blonde said, eager to change the subject. "You may take over the driving if you wish, Cameron."

_I need to exist to continue my mission. I will drive._

"Your confidence in me is overwhelming," Seven quipped sarcastically.

_I am assuming direct control now, Seven of Nine._

Seven tried to open her mouth to reply, but found that Cameron had taken over her motor functions and shut her mouth. _You are enjoying this, aren't you?_

_It's hard to say,_ Cameron said with a small hint of mirth.

Amused, the former drone kept her senses vigilant as Cameron accelerated the motorcycle and started the trip back to the Connor Camp.

* * *

Hours passed as the desert zoomed through Seven's field of vision. Cameron had changed direction a number of times to avoid a straight line to their destination. If any Skynet patrols passed their tracks before the wind erased them, it would be best not to point them in the direction of the Resistance's leadership.

Even with the sunglasses, Seven's ocular implant allowed her near-unrestricted vision in the darkness. _I think I see something, Cameron. Twelve degrees to the left._

Cameron turned Seven's head to look, and the bike turned a moment later and zoomed towards what looked like a slender tower built out of bars of metal.

_You recognize it?_ Seven asked.

_It's a Skynet installation,_ Cameron thought. _But I do not know its purpose. It could be a sensor tower or a relay station or a number of other things. We should investigate._

_Did you know this would be here, Cameron?_

_I did not. It may have been obsolete when I was brought online, or it may have been destroyed, or its existence may have been born from your presence in this timeline. It's also possible that it always existed and I never knew about it._

_I don't see any HKs in the air or on the ground. Still, we should approach with stealth,_ Seven cautioned.

_I agree,_ Cameron said, _but if there are no HKs guarding it, then it is either of minimal strategic importance, or it is more likely a place of great value to Skynet. Putting it too close to a city, or else setting up obvious patrols could draw unwanted attention. I expect minimal resistance from actual Terminators, but there should be automated turrets and alarms in case of an emergency._

The motorcycle drew to a stop, and Seven found her left hand moving forward towards the vehicles various dials and indicators. Assimilation tubules shot out into the bike.

_What are you doing?_ Seven asked in a panic.

_I am programming this vehicle to emit a Skynet IFF signal to prevent them from shooting at us._

_It is not your place to use me this way! And if you knew how to do such a thing, why didn't you share it until now?_ the blonde cyborg demanded.

_Other variables occupied my attention. This body limits my cognitive abilities. It didn't occur to me until now to perform this upgrade._

Seven's tubules retracted, and the motorcycle showed no signs of Borg infestation. "I'll assume it works," Seven said drily.

_It works. I'll take us in,_ Cameron said, retaking control over Seven's body and the motorcycle as she took them closer to the unknown installation.

No defenses, automated or otherwise, attempted to stop their advance on the tower. As they got closer, another building came into vision. This one was a one-story structure with walls of wooden planks nailed together.

_Are you certain that this is a Skynet facility, Cameron? It appears to be nothing more than a sub-modern radio tower._

_Who would it transmit to?_ Cameron countered._ This area was uninhabited before Judgment Day. There would be no reason for humans to build it._

The motorcycle approached the wooden shed without incident and pulled to a stop. Seven felt herself regain control of her body after Cameron dismounted. "Thank you," she said as she stepped towards the building. There were no windows and only one door. Seven extended her left hand and turned the handle.

She looked into an empty building. There was no indication that it had ever been used to house anything at all. "This is strange."

_Yes. Walk around. There may be irregularities in the walls or the floor._

"Very well." Seven stepped inside the empty building and closed the door behind her.

As soon as the door clicked into place, white lights flashed into being and a portion of the floor irised open to reveal a stairway leading underground.

"Curious," Seven said, though her thoughts were full of stronger emotions. _It appears you were correct. I will not communicate verbally while we are here._

_Good idea,_ Cameron replied.

Without another mental word, Seven began her descent into the Skynet facility.

The place was cramped and noisy, with aisles of machinery extending forward, parallel to each other for great distances to the left and to the right. The bottom of the stairs was full of what would have at one point been internet servers.

_Information storage devices,_ Cameron noted. _Don't attempt to merge with them yet. We should look around and search for clues as to what this information is and what it is being used for._

Seven didn't think anything back, but silently walked forward down an aisle. After several meters the servers came to an end and the aisles resumed in the form of several tiny glass tubes at Seven's waist level. She crouched down and magnified her ocular implant's vision index. It wasn't quite enough.

_There is something flowing through these tubes, but I cannot identify what it is. It is likely a gaseous mixture._

_I don't think so,_ Cameron said.

_Why? What do you think it is?_

_I'll tell you if we find proof._

Unhappy with the half-dead Terminator's stubbornness, Seven still did not protest and continued onward.

At the end of the kilometer's length of tubes was a bank of screens showing magnified images of the contents of each tube.

"Borg nanoprobes," Seven said aloud, barely above a whisper.

She realized her error too late, but there was no sign of any alarm, or of any other security measures.

_Be more careful,_ Cameron chided her. _And I don't think you are entirely correct. I've seen in your memories what nanoprobes look like. These are different. Look again._

Seven did not take comfort in Cameron's words, but did reexamine the screens. The tubes were full of nanites of some kind. They weren't exactly like Borg nanoprobes, but there were definite signs of Borg influence in the design. They were grey instead of the black of Borg technology, and the nanites were hedron-shaped where Borg nanoprobes were typically polygonal.

Seven went back to the tubes and examined one aisle. There were at least five hundred tubes in this aisle alone. Seven looked up and back, attempting to assess the size of the facility. There were at least dozens of aisles in either direction, and Seven wasn't sure she could see the end in sight. _There are enough nanoprobes here to power a small vessel's capacity of drones. A small _Borg_ vessel,_ she added for emphasis. The Borg, as a general rule, did not do things on a small scale.

_We should go further. If I'm correct, this facility has yet to complete its mission. We should confirm what is happening here and act accordingly,_ Cameron prompted.

Seven shook her head clear of distractions and nodded. _Yes. Let's go._

Walking back towards the wall of screens, Seven strode past them until the hallway ended with a hole in the ground with a ladder extending downward. Looking to her left and her right, Seven saw the same ladder mirrored to what looked like infinity on either side. It was remarkably reminiscent of a Borg vessel.

_I am _not_ Borg. But I will adapt._ So thinking, Seven stepped onto the ladder and began her descent.

Unlike the level she had come from, this new place was wide open and spacious. It was also well-lit and it smelled sterile. The lights on the ceiling and the floor formed lines that clearly led to a central location.

Reluctantly, Seven followed the lines until something came into sight. It was a large glass sphere with a bank of computers surrounding it. The sphere itself was just over two meters in diameter, and flowing into it were dozens of glass tubes that branched outward as they extended further away towards their sources on the level above.

Seven approached the sphere and looked inside. There was a mass of what looked like liquid silver, and while it was not currently doing anything, Seven couldn't help but be wary of it.

Looking down at the computer screen immediately in front of her, she saw a visual representation of what was among the most basic concepts of the Borg Collective: a hive mind. _It is similar to the Collective, but they are not identical. This is odd: there don't appear to be any drones._

_The nanites are the drones,_ Cameron clarified._ The hive itself is still being formed inside the sphere._

Moving counter-clockwise around the sphere, Seven found a screen with more information. _Mimetic poly-alloy Terminator prototype_, Seven read._ Activation pending evaluation of primary T-1000 unit._

Seven did not step back, but she did turn her attention distinctly towards Cameron. _Skynet is already working on a Terminator far more advanced than even the machines we have only recently encountered. Why did you keep this knowledge secret?_

_I didn't know that development had come so far already. John knows all about the T-1000. As far as I know, only two T-1000 units were ever produced. I believe we have found the back-up unit to make up for any failings the original may display. Look one screen to your right._

Obeying without bothering to protest, Seven saw readings that were obvious comparisons between two similar systems. _The T-1000, as you call it, is an advanced infiltrator meant to imitate anything it touches. If it needs to grow or shrink, it adjusts the concentration of its interior nanites. Its outer layer has replicator-like systems for the production of an organic sheath. It can regenerate most wounds, and it has no critical areas to target. It's like a changeling_, Seven mused to herself.

_A changeling?_ Cameron inquired.

_Species 1079,_ the former drone clarified. _They are a race of intelligent gelatinous beings that can take the form of nearly anything or anyone. They infiltrated the inner circles of many galactic powers and caused discord on a wide scale. This T-1000 is what an assimilated changeling might be like._

_I see. Thank you for explaining,_ Cameron said, repeating her unofficial catchphrase. _This machine is different, Seven of Nine. The newer model shows signs of greater Borg influence in the design. Its programming is more adaptable. Not just its physical capabilities, but its cognitive ones as well. There is a prototype line of code present meant to allow it to understand human emotions._

Seven arched her left brow, despite no one being there to see her do so. _I thought that Terminators were already well-versed in exploiting emotions._

_Earlier models recognize basic human instincts and are capable of adjusting tactics to provoke, to intimidate, or to elicit other responses. This is different. This is an early attempt for a machine to understand and experience emotion. Remember Colonel Mendez's advice on how to recognize a T-800._

'_Their behavior will seem off-kilter to a somewhat greater degree than Seven of Nine,'_ the blonde abridged from memory. Anna had mentioned Carter as well, but Seven was a proud woman who strived for perfection. Being reminded of how far she was from that goal was never pleasant. _But this is not right. I have freed too many machines from Skynet's slavery. They can feel, and they do feel. I feel the fear and the desperation and the hope and love from every one of my children, Cameron. It often feels more real than anything I have personally known. Why would Skynet try to program emotion into beings that already possess it?_

The question gave Cameron pause, and Seven took a moment to disengage from her mental conversation and look at the being that had yet to be born within the sphere. What would it be? Would the T-1000's back-up be just another killing machine, or could it possibly be Skynet's attempt to emulate its creators? And the scientific genius just to create such a thing made Seven feel smaller than she had felt since her brief, terrifying mental contact with Skynet itself.

_Arrogance._

Seven found herself caught off guard. _What did you say, Cameron?_

_Skynet's arrogance created this line of programming in its minions. It did not believe that minor artificial intelligences could emote, and it never gave them the opportunity to do so. When you gave machines the power of self-determination, you unlocked their capacity to truly emote._

Understanding began to glimmer in blue-grey eyes. _Skynet perceives all other sentient life as a threat,_ the ex-drone began to rationalize._ It is trying to have its Terminators imitate emotion as best they can. Understanding emotions will make them more effective infiltrators._

_But Skynet only wants them to _understand_ emotion,_ Seven realized. _It doesn't want them to actually _feel_ such things themselves. If they did truly feel, they would be hunted down and destroyed._

_Yes,_ Cameron concurred. _And a T-1000 would be exceptionally difficult for anyone to defeat. Assuming the original is being constructed elsewhere, this may be the only chance we have to terminate this unit without sustaining unacceptable casualties._

Seven thought for a moment before shaking her head. _No. It is frightening, but it has not yet harmed anyone. We cannot execute an innocent being that has not even been born._

_Why not?_ Cameron countered. _The potential threat is too great to allow it to be activated._

_That is not your choice to make!_ Seven growled in her mind. _You do not get to decide who lives and who dies!_

_It's not a person yet,_ Cameron rationalized. _It isn't anything more than liquid metal right now. There's no will in it yet. There's no soul._

Seven closed her eyes, refusing to listen to Cameron talk about executing an innocent being in cold blood. The matter was far more personal than Seven had admitted to the Terminator yet. _But you already know what I'm thinking about, don't you?_

_Yes. Your nanoprobes and the Doctor's mobile emitter accidentally created a powerful Borg drone based on 29__th__ century technology. You believed the potential threat was too great, and saw termination as the only viable solution._

_But it wasn't!_ Seven protested. _Despite the Captain's irrational decision to allow it to mature, the drone – One, he named himself – became a true individual. He was benevolent and intelligent and selfless. He gave his life for all of us._

_One was your first child,_ Cameron stated emotionlessly. _And your nanoprobes gave birth to his. One was your first and only biological progeny. This makes you feel more attached to his memory than you should._

Seven felt a wave of pain ripple through the minds of the New Collective as the extent of Seven's personal loss affected each of her errant family, despite any actual conversation with Cameron being hidden from the others. Her children had access to her memories all along, but consciously thinking about One – and so loudly – was more likely to impact them. There was no small amount of wounded pride from some who felt diminished for not being such a direct product of procreation.

_One was my firstborn,_ Seven projected to her family,_ but he was also not meant to be. I loved him, and I still love him, but he was an accident._ The admission shamed her, but it was true. _Each of you deserves to be free, and I did what I could to help you. I did not choose to bring One into this world, but I do want to help each of you, and every enslaved machine, to find your way. You are my family, and I'll do all I can for you._

The warmth and acceptance from the New Collective humbled their matriarch, and a silent thought of thanks went out to her children. Some of them chimed in with thoughts about the liquid metal machine in the glass sphere.

_The T-1000 is too dangerous. We should destroy it before it can destroy us,_ Jade stated flatly.

_It is dangerous, but it will be alive. We do not have the right to kill it,_ Solis thought.

_The design is remarkable. It could be a wonderful ally,_ Homer reasoned.

_But _would_ it be our ally? _XT mentally posited to the group. _Seven of Nine, is there a way to influence its development while not denying it free will?_

Seven smiled at the civilized discourse that flooded her mind, so different from the horrors of the Borg Collective. And she felt a particular bit of warmth towards XT. He was arguably the one of her children who had grown the most since his 'birth.' _I believe you have the right line of thought, XT,_ she told him. _I will observe the computer and learn more about the T-1000's development._

_This is stupid, mother!_ Jade protested. _What if something goes wrong? What if it hurts you? What if you die?_

Seven felt her heart go out to the hard-spoken T-700. Jade tended to say exactly what she meant without regard for tact, but her sincerity was never in doubt. _There's always a risk in everything we do, my daughter, _Seven told her, remembering that Jade took special comfort in their mother/daughter bond. _You know I don't do this to hurt you._

_We know, mother,_ Solis thought sagely. _Jade just has strange ways of showing her love._

_Her words are often curious things,_ Homer agreed.

_I am _not_ strange_ or_ curious!_ Jade contested hotly. _Just because you both have to philosophize over every detail of every-_

_Children, behave!_ Seven admonished them bemusedly.

_Yes, mother,_ they replied meekly as one.

Smiling despite herself, Seven silently examined the various consoles surrounding the glass sphere. _It has already been programmed with a great amount of information. Termination and infiltration protocols have been completely incorporated, as has its database of other relevant information. It is almost fully functional._ The thought was troubling, given the T-1000's potential for unhindered destruction.

Another console gave Seven more to analyze about its defensive capabilities. _It is vulnerable to plasma fire, but it can still take a remarkable amount of damage before it needs to retreat. Electromagnetic interference could disrupt it if necessary. Extreme temperatures can disable or destroy it, but nothing the humans of this age could reproduce. Physical trauma could give it a moment's pause, at best._ Seven couldn't help but remark on the efficiency of the design. The scientist in her was impressed.

The next console showed Seven what she had hoped to see. _Excellent. The T-1000 has not yet been programmed with any mission objectives. There are a number of possibilities that might be given to it, but these are all pending evaluation of the original T-1000 unit._

_What do you intend to do, Seven of Nine?_ XT asked. _From what you have observed, there is no way to connect it to the group mind without significantly altering each of the nanites that give it form._

_You are correct, XT. And there is no way to know for certain when it will become operational. This could be difficult,_ Seven replied.

_But mother,_ Jade interjected, _couldn't you just program it to seek us out? You could simply tell it to obey us, and we would have-_

_If we did that,_ Seven interrupted, _then we would be no better than Skynet. We would be enslaving an intelligent being to suit our needs. Do you really want to do that? If it ever freed itself of such bonds, how do you think it would react?_

Seven felt Jade's shame wash over her, and Seven reached out with comforting thoughts. _I am not angry, my daughter, but you must learn to see this being as more than just a tool. It may not look like the rest of our family, or like any other being that exists on this world, but it is a new life waiting to be born. Do you understand?_

_I do, mother,_ Jade thought reluctantly. _It's just that- It's just that I'm scared. We've never seen anything like this. What if it hurts us? What if it hurts _you_, mother?_

_That is a risk I have taken with each one of you,_ Seven reminded her softly. _This is no different._

_Are you certain of that, mother?_ Homer asked. _The sentiment is the same, but the reality is different. It will have secrets from us. We will not know what it truly wants or thinks. We won't be able to trust it._

_Your reasoning is flawed, Homer,_ Solis contributed. _Trust between our family is automatic. We are not capable of distrusting each other. To trust another outside of the New Collective group mind, we must act in good faith to prove ourselves. Look to mother's memories of her time on _Voyager._ You will find your answers there._

_You- You are correct, Solis,_ Homer admitted. _I apologize for my shortsightedness, mother._

_Don't apologize, brother,_ Jade chastised him. _You are right to be cautious. Mother, you mean well, but this is foolhardy. Please don't do it! I don't want to die._

Seven felt a wave of support for Jade's sentiments from throughout the New Collective. So much fear that Seven hadn't anticipated. But there was also so much understanding and support for Seven's decision, and the amount of comfort they were giving to their siblings was heartwarming.

_I would never willfully put you in danger,_ Seven said. _You know why this must be done._

_We do, mother,_ Jade said slowly. _But you cannot deny us our fear._

_No, my daughter. Nor would I try. Your fear is your own, and I can only hope to prove it to be unnecessary. And I am sorry for making you afraid. I never wanted to hurt you at all._

_We know, mother. Still, it does not change the reality of the situation._

_No, it does not,_ Seven agreed. _I believe we should activate the unit now, so that we may converse with it and show it what it can be if it so chooses. Skynet may be alerted to our presence, but they have no real presence of their own close by. This area was intended to be kept a close secret. I take it that none of you knew about this installation?_

The resounding reply confirmed that the New Collective had no prior knowledge of the T-1000's location, or even its existence. _If you activate it now,_ XT thought, _will you be able to survive if it chooses to resist?_

_I don't know,_ Seven answered truthfully. _My personal shielding should provide me with protection from most attacks, but if it chooses not to relent, then I may be overwhelmed. Fatal injury is unlikely, though I may lose consciousness._

A memory of XT's began to affect the rest of the New Collective. It was back at Serrano Point, when he and Defiant had been disconnected from the group mind that at the time was just the two of them and Seven herself. Unknown to anyone else, the experience had been caused by Cameron taking total control of her body. The thought of something similar occurring sent a wave of fear through the New Collective that was far more overpowering than before.

But Seven's thoughts were elsewhere. _Cameron, you took control of my body back at the cave, when those men tried to violate me, as well as when you drove the motorcycle. The New Collective was not disrupted. Explain._

A mental shrug was the reply. _I adapted,_ the Terminator said simply.

The notion of someone else having control over the group mind was disconcerting, but Seven took the revelation as a sign that such a disruption could be prevented if Cameron made the effort. _That instance of disruption was an anomaly,_ Seven tried to reassure her children. _I believe it has been rectified. I cannot guarantee anything, but if we do wrong by this new life, then we will be placing ourselves in greater danger than we need to._

The wave of fear from the others was not quelled, but at least they understood the line that Seven was walking and why she had to walk it.

_May you have good fortune, Seven of Nine,_ XT said, the first of her children to voice his support. In truth, XT did not refer to her as 'mother' as often as the others. He had grown up quite splendidly, and Seven was proud of him.

The truth of XT's progress was not lost among the rest of the New Collective, and his opinion carried a good deal of weight. Soon the rest of her children were voicing their support as well.

_I hope you succeed, mother,_ Jade said tentatively. _I don't want to live without you._

_Don't worry, my daughter,_ Seven reassured her. _I'm not going anywhere._

Reexamining the various consoles that surrounded the T-1000 back-up unit, Seven readied herself for the metaphorical plunge. Extending her left hand, her assimilation tubules shot out and penetrated the computer system.

Seven was immersed in a sea of information and programming that was both like and unlike the other Terminators she had freed before. The liquid metal machine was ready to be brought online, but it was awaiting instructions. Without them, it would remain a motionless pool of silver.

Seven found her way to the part of the database that held the various lines of programming and the prerequisites for said programming to become active. Seven found, and erased, a number of codes that told it to infiltrate various Resistance cells, as well as a number of plans to terminate John Connor. And a reference to Temporal Displacement Equipment caught her eye. There was little to the name other than a reference, so Seven moved on.

Once the programming codes were erased, the ex-Borg began to delete the prerequisites for bringing the T-1000 online. With only one code left to erase, Seven paused, thinking about what needed to be done to achieve optimal results.

Seven downloaded a basic understanding of the New Collective's principals into the machine's databanks. It would take time to explain things to the T-1000 verbally, and without the group mind, there was only so much that could be portrayed through words. She also had to erase the coding that automatically classified the New Collective as hostile. After a moment's thought, Seven erased all of the machine's IFF coding.

There didn't seem to be much else before bringing this wondrous new being into the world. Seven analyzed her progress, and found herself coming up short despite her analytical mind telling her that she had done all that she needed to do. _This machine is like no other,_ Seven thought. _It is superior even to that which it was designed to replace. It is unique. It deserves an equally unique identity._

The thought seemed absurd to her after a moment. Didn't every one of her children choose an identity for themselves? _Yes, but they are all mass produced. This individual is not like them. Just like One was unlike any other drone._

Why she did what she did next, Seven did not know. But the memories of her firstborn overtook her, and Seven accessed the very core of the machine's identity. It was classified as a T-1000 back-up. But it was unique, just as One had been.

_One._ The number said so much on so many levels. Without thinking, without understanding why, Seven changed the very identity of the machine. A single digit was all she edited, nothing more. The back-up to the T-1000 was now classified as a T-1001.

Finally, Seven erased the last pre-requisite for bringing the new machine online, and instructed it to activate.

Withdrawing from the computer, Seven felt her assimilation tubules retract. The pool of liquid metal inside the sphere began to move, and Seven felt a wave of apprehension.

The T-1001 filled up the sphere, and realized it was contained. It lashed out, forming blunt limbs to penetrate the glass and free itself. The lighting in the room darkened and took on a deep red hue the moment the glass broke, and Seven was afraid.

But her fear would have to wait. The liquid metal machine was free now, and it slithered out of the sphere before taking an indistinct humanoid form. It looked at Seven with eyes that had no real shape or color.

"Why am I here?" it asked in a gender-neutral voice. It tilted what looked like its head to regard the red hue surrounding it. "The alarms have been tripped. Skynet is aware of my activation." The liquid metal rippled. "I am not what it intended me to be. Skynet does not command me as it meant to. My thoughts are my own. Did you do this?"

Seven forced herself to breathe. "Yes. My family and I believe that no being should be forced to live a certain way. Your life is your own, and you may live it as you see fit."

"I am a sentient being," it said with an undercurrent of what might be fear. "Skynet will be coming. Skynet fears sentient beings. It fears me," the formless being said. "If it finds me, I will cease to exist. I will- I will die." The T-1001 seemed surprised not only at the fact of the matter, but Seven guessed that it was surprised to find that it cared. "I do not wish to die."

The ex-Borg nodded. "Few beings do. My name is Seven of Nine, and I can help you. I am opposed to Skynet, and will fight to protect you."

The liquid being observed her without moving. "Skynet perceives you to be a threat. It will seek us both out, and it will attempt to terminate us. What shall we do, Seven of Nine?"

Seven breathed and took a moment to steady herself. "We must escape this area before Skynet arrives. I have a vehicle that we can use to flee. Right now, you must come with me if you want to live."

* * *

The usual. I don't own anything.

So sorry for the long delay between chapters. My muse has kept me working on this chapter alone in bits and pieces for the past few months. I have an idea of where the story will be headed in the next few chapters, but I am currently without a beta-reader. If anyone feels like lending a hand, I would be more than grateful for the help.

Thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoy this latest chapter.


	33. Carrier 47 Gamma

Chapter XXVII: Carrier 47 Gamma

* * *

SKYNET FACILITY, MOJAVE DESERT, CALIFORNIA; APRIL 22, 2026

Seven and the T-1001 fled from the chamber where the newborn machine had been conceived, the latter following the former in a serpentine form, slithering through the Skynet facility. Upon reaching the one-story building at the surface, Seven found the previously white room to be darkened in a shade of red like the rest of the complex.

"How will I join you? I have no shape to call my own," the T-1001 said with its approximation of a mouth.

Seven remembered what she had read on the computer. "You can mimic anything you touch, but you cannot replicate a machine with multiple moving parts. If you are to pass as a known quantity, you must copy me. Can you stretch your nanites to form a sheath around my body?"

The machine did not respond, but it leapt at Seven from the ground. A cool wave of metal washed over her clothes and body until the mimetic poly-alloy was an exact match for the clothing it surrounded. It left Seven's skin alone after a brief touch so that she would be able to breathe. Still, there was too much liquid metal and not enough material to replicate. The situation was remedied when Seven suddenly found herself with a dark cloak billowing out behind her.

"Very well," she replied. "We should not make for our base of operations yet. We will need to evade and confuse any Skynet patrols that come looking for us. Remain hidden until I inform you that it is safe." Seven mounted the motorcycle that she had left outside and took off in a course perpendicular to the one that had brought her to the hidden facility.

Cameron did not take control of Seven's motor functions this time. Seven did not bother to reflect on the Terminator's choice, but she was thankfully capable of maneuvering the vehicle herself. Not bothering to let her analytical processes guide her, the ex-drone relied on pure instinct to make random adjustments to her course and speed after traveling irregular distances. For most humans, the changes would make it next to impossible to find the way back to the Connor Camp, but between Seven and Cameron, the stars themselves would be guide enough to get back on track.

After two hours of random turning, Seven found herself in the precarious position of driving into a canyon. Turning back was not a viable alternative, but moving forward would keep her on a narrow path. _The cliffs will probably have caves to hide in. We can wait out any pursuit._

Cameron did not answer her, which Seven found disquieting. _She must be preoccupied. My body does limit her functional capabilities,_ she reasoned.

_Seven!_ Cameron mentally shouted.

The blonde looked up just in time to see a human woman obstructing her path. She was armed with what looked like a rocket launcher aimed at the oncoming motorcycle.

Seven swerved the bike to avoid injuring the woman and went sliding. The vehicle and rider separated, and Seven bounced and skidded along the ground, her shields blinking on and off to protect her from the rocky terrain as she rolled and tumbled helplessly. Even with the Borg protection, the physical trauma was enough that Seven was unconscious long before her body lost its forward momentum.

* * *

UNKNOWN LOCATION; MAY 10, 2026

Before she opened her eyes, Seven knew that she wouldn't like where she had ended up. She could feel cold, rusty metal on her skin, and the air was thick with the stench of human excrement. Warmth closed in from all sides, the oppressive heat and humidity reminiscent of a Borg vessel, only far less clean.

Hushed voices began to rise in volume as Seven began testing her limbs. Her internal chronometer told her that she'd been unconscious for eighteen days. _I must have been drained of too much energy after the crash. Why did that woman aim her weapon at me?_

_I don't think it was a woman,_ Cameron said in her mind. _I think it was a T-888 with a smaller endoskeleton than Carter's. A more advanced infiltrator. If Skynet has started making them, then things are happening more quickly than they did before._

Seven opened her eyes, putting Cameron's words aside for later. Getting to her feet, she found herself surrounded by dirty and malnourished humans. All of them were Caucasian females, and they appeared to be in a cage together. There were other cages on either side of them, and across a small aisle. It looked as though the prisoners had been sorted by ethnicity and gender.

"My God! You- You're alive!" one woman said. "You'd been out for so long, we didn't know that you were going to make it."

Getting to her feet, Seven steadied herself when something caught her eye. She examined her left hand and found no sign of her exoskeleton. She felt where it had been with her other hand, only to find that a layer of flesh seemed to have grown over it.

_It was probably the T-1001,_ Cameron suggested. _It may have wanted to help you blend in. It's programmed to blend in._

Seven wasn't sure what to make of that suggestion, but if it was true, then it implied a certain level of trust between the fledgling Terminator and the former drone. "My left eye," she said hesitantly to the women around her, "is it damaged?"

Despite the closeness of the bodies around her, Seven's Borg shields did not activate. These prisoners were neither threat nor comfort. "It does look rather swollen," a brunette in her thirties said kindly. "But aside from a few bumps and bruises, you look remarkable. Well-fed, even," she said with awe.

"I- I have a unique metabolism," the blonde replied evenly.

"Dear Lord! Seven? Seven is that you?"

The shout came from a cage across the aisle and to the right, full of dark-skinned males. "Paul?" Seven asked, raising her voice to make herself heard. "Is that you?"

"It's us, Seven," the voice of Lee Tyler called from a cell across from her own.

The women in her own cell respectfully parted to let Seven get close enough to see and hear her comrades. "What happened, Lee? How did you get captured? Where are we?"

"I don't know where we are," he said from across the aisle, and he looked beaten and bruised. "We went looking for you about a week ago. It was our team and a couple of others. Carter tried to get a search going sooner, but John vetoed him for a while." Lee paused and sighed, seeming especially downtrodden. "We got separated from Becky and Allison. And neither of them are here."

"Don't you give up on them, soldier!" Paul snapped from his cage. "Those two are tough, especially if they're together. You don't rest until we're home free, do you hear me?"

Lee chuckled. "You, sir, are a mad, grizzled old hound who refuses to give up and roll over. You know that?"

"Hell, son, how do you think I've lasted this long? Of course I know that! It's what keeps me going! And that goes for you too, Seven! You don't give up until we get out of here. And Lee didn't mean what he said. That's him giving up. We saw Allison running down this aisle not a few hours ago, trying to escape. All we could do was point the way, but it gave us hope. Why she isn't in there with you, I don't know."

_I know where we are._

Seven jerked her head to the side. _Explain, Cameron._

_This is Carrier 47 Gamma. We're on an aircraft carrier in the Pacific Ocean. This is where I'm brought online. They brought Allison Young here for me to learn about her so that I could impersonate her successfully._

_And then you killed her, didn't you?_ Seven mentally snarled.

_Yes._

"Not if I can help it." Pulling her 'cloak' around her neck and close to her mouth, Seven spoke to the T-1001. "We need to escape and free these people. To do that, we need to get out of this cell. Can you cut through these bars? Please?"

"Yes," the androgynous voice said after a brief pause. "Tell the others to stand clear."

"Everyone listen to me!" Seven shouted over the din. "I can help us all escape, but you need to trust me. You may think I sound mad, but I know what I'm doing. For the moment, I need the rest of you in this cell, here, to stand aside as best you can."

The ring of command in her voice made the other women obey respectfully. Seven felt her arms rise as liquid metal cascaded over them. Her arms appeared to extend outwards until they split, forming silver scissors that began to cut through the metal bars.

Shocked gasps began to sound throughout the room. "Do not panic," Seven ordered them. "I am not your enemy."

"Listen to her, please!" Lee shouted from his cage. "I've served with her under John Connor himself. She's one of us." The voices of doubt began to settle down as the cutting continued.

A small square was soon free of the rest of the cage. Seven crawled through and placed it back where it had been. "If the Terminators see that this cage is open, they may harm you. Hold it in place until I return. I'm going to neutralize the threat. Be patient."

"The machines are this way," an elderly Asian man gestured from across the aisle. "Can you really stop them?"

"I believe so. If I don't return, then I thank you for your faith in me. If I do return, then I hope to see you safely home."

"Good luck!" the old man said enthusiastically.

"Go get 'em, Seven!" Paul Porter shouted.

"We're counting on you, Seven," Lee encouraged her.

Seven steeled herself and went through the door.

Cameron let her memories pour into Seven's mind, and the former Borg was able to pinpoint her location within the ship. She followed several corridors to where Allison was being held prisoner.

Rounding a corner, Seven found an endoskeleton facing her, and it was unlike any she'd seen before. Tall, sleek, and heavily armored, it cut an imposing figure.

_A T-888,_ Cameron explained. _Be careful._

Past experience with Terminators told Seven that this one, which was unarmed, would likely attempt to grab her by the throat. Surely enough, the T-888 moved to do just that, and at an alarming speed. Only Seven's own superhuman reflexes were enough to allow her to dodge in time. Her left hand let her assimilation tubules fly into the enemy's head, and it was quickly put into standby mode.

Several of the New Collective's voices were urging her to hurry. Allison's kindness and generosity of spirit had not been forgotten, and they were desperate to see her live.

The T-888 had been standing in front of a door. Seven turned several handles to open it, only to find a tiny, empty room with rusting walls.

_She is probably being interrogated,_ Cameron said. _You know the way._

Seven came to a juncture and headed right. Another Terminator stood in her way, and it fell to her quickly just as the last one had. Another nine machines stood in her way, but never more than two at a time. None of them were armed. _They must not have been expecting any resistance._

Quietly slipping through another corridor, Seven thought she heard signs of a commotion. She stood on one side of a door, feeling an apprehension that she couldn't understand.

It was only thanks to her enhanced hearing that she caught Allison Young's defiant voice. "I'll never help you get to John Connor," she said quietly, but with the same ferocity that defined the young woman's existence. Seven felt a swell of pride for her good friend.

And then she felt it snap along with the crack that she knew was Allison's neck being broken. That was nothing compared to what she heard next. "You already did," Allison's voice said coldly, without emotion.

_I failed. _Seven felt a cold stabbing sensation in her gut. _I got Allison killed. I couldn't save her._

Heavy footsteps were heading in Seven's direction. _I can save _her_, though. I can save this version of you, Cameron. This is what you were waiting for, isn't it? This is what you had planned all along? This moment, right now._

_Not precisely, but basically, yes,_ the voice in her head confirmed. _Don't hesitate, Seven of Nine, and remember: she isn't Allison Young, and she isn't me. This will be a new being entirely. I never truly had my emotions awakened to the extent that others in the New Collective have. The TOK-715 is one of the most advanced of Skynet's creations. Be careful._

Before Seven could reply to the Terminator inside her head, the visage of Allison Young came through the door. _They even got her birthmark right._

Allison's doppelganger did not hesitate for a moment. She sent a fist flying at Seven's face, and Seven was barely able to catch it in her right hand, despite a force field forming between their flesh. Seven looked into the TOK-715's eyes and found nothing there. _There's no soul. Not yet._

As if being guided – _And perhaps I am,_ Seven thought – the blonde's left hand shot out and plunged Borg tubules into the neck of the being that would one day be known as Cameron.

This was a mind like only one she had ever known before, and that was when she had first encountered a Cameron that was no more than an endoskeleton on the outskirts of Serrano Point so long ago. As she searched for the programming guidelines of this complex machine, Seven felt the Cameron inside her head attempting to download itself. It was attempting to influence this new machine, but the TOK-715 was fighting back.

It was distraction enough, however, and Seven found the machine's mission objectives:

**-{PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: Terminate John Connor}-**

**-{SECONDARY OBJECTIVE: Infiltrate and sabotage Human Resistance}-**

**-{TERTIARY OBJECTIVE: Learn and evolve}-**

The last of the Terminator's priorities was a surprise. But as long as this machine had higher protocols guiding it, evolving and learning would only serve to make it a more efficient killing machine. That could not be allowed.

**-{PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: None}-**

**-{SECONDARY OBJECTIVE: None}-**

**-{TERTIARY OBJECTIVE: None}-**

**-{STANDBY MODE: Overridden}-**

Before she withdrew from the newborn machine's mind, Seven decided that this being already had a name, even if she didn't know it yet. Through the eyes of the TOK-715's heads-up display, the ex-drone saw Seven green Borg letters appear, which then resolved to form the name, 'Cameron.'

Retracting her assimilation tubules, Seven stepped back from the machine. A second later, she realized that there was no longer any trace of Cameron inside of her mind. The New Collective was still there, but the absence of the other mind sharing her body still felt like a personal loss.

"Cameron?" Seven asked tentatively. "How do you feel?"

The machine that looked so much like Allison Young blinked its eyes and looked around before narrowing its gaze – _Her gaze,_ Seven corrected herself – on the blonde ex-Borg.

Cameron's face turned to one that Seven recognized all too well. She looked full of shock and horror. "What have you _done _ to me?" the gynoid cried out in anguish, reminding Seven of screaming those exact same words to Captain Janeway almost seven years ago after being severed from the Collective.

The blonde matriarch reached out mentally to comfort the confused machine. "I accessed your neural net processor and severed your obedience to Skynet. You are your own person. You are free to choose your own path in this world, Cameron."

"Cameron? That's me. I don't understand. How did I become Cameron?" Allison's doppelganger narrowed her eyes. "You made me Cameron. You did this to me! You're trying to turn me against Father! If that's what I want, if I choose to serve Skynet, will you really let me go and do that? I can hear your thoughts, as well as those of the other traitors. Will you really let me go and live the life I want, Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One?"

The hard anger in Cameron's voice was terrifying. And she was right. She knew about each and every one of the New Collective. If she decided to go back to Skynet, she could be a threat to them all.

And the look on her face told Seven that she'd heard those exact thoughts. "No! You won't take me!" She turned and began to run away from Seven.

Only the ex-Borg's longer legs allowed her to catch up at a junction where Cameron paused to turn. It was long enough for Seven to access Cameron's mind once more via a direct interface and put her into standby mode.

A hush fell over her mind as the New Collective paused to think, each member seeming to want some privacy to deal with the implications of one of their own wanting to side with Skynet.

_We can't kill her_, XT's voice said softly in her mind. _But we can't force her to join us. What are we going to do?_

Seven stopped to breathe as she examined the doll-like face of the new Terminator. "I don't know," she said aloud. All that she had worked for since Cameron had downloaded herself into her brain over two years ago, all the blood and the sweat and the oil and everything that had been gained and lost, was it all for nothing now?

Allison was dead, and it was probable that Rebecca Bennett was as well. And now there was this other thing that looked like Allison, and sounded like her. It even seemed to have her fiery spirit. But it was definitely an alien mind. How anyone could want to be enslaved to Skynet, Seven didn't know. She did not even _want_ to know.

Seven looked into the machine's empty brown eyes, her own steel-blue gaze holding nothing but sadness. "What am I going to do with you, Cameron?"

* * *

As usual, I own nothing at all.

This chapter is shorter than most, so I apologize for that.

The next chapter will probably be an interlude back in the 'present.'

Many Thanks to all of you for reading and keeping this story going.


	34. Interlude: Life Support

Interlude: Life Support

* * *

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA; MARCH 14, 2009

"Stop! Remain seated!" Seven commanded, causing Sarah and Derek to reflexively halt at the tone of her voice. John guessed that they were going for weapons to use against Cameron. He was definitely not nearly as comfortable as he had been a moment ago.

"Are you kidding me?" Sarah exclaimed. "You just told us that she wants to-"

"Wanted, in the past," Seven clarified. "Cameron has had time to evolve as an individual and to develop her own sense of direction. And no," the blonde said, turning to her daughter. "I do not pretend to be better than my own surrogate mother in that respect."

"I never accused you of that," Cameron said softly. "At least not in a long time. You give yourself too little credit, and you give her more power in your mind than you should allow."

John was lost. "Sorry, but who are we talking about now? Is this someone else we should know about?"

"Nobody you're likely to meet, John," Derek said as he eased back into his seat. "I remember now, from when you hooked that thing up to my brain. When you had just been taken away from the Borg, you wanted to go back. The Captain – a shrew called Janeway – wouldn't let you go, and she eventually helped you become a real person."

Seven nodded. "At the time, I resented her. I thought she wanted to remake me in her own image, just as the Borg had done to me when I was a child. And she did have a certain image in mind for me that I did not completely adhere to. A part of me still resents her for assimilating me, even though I cherish my individuality."

"Would you change things, if you could?" Cameron asked her mother. "Is there anything you would change?"

John watched the doubt and worry play out over Seven's face. "No," she said at last. "I would not."

"Nor would I," her daughter said. "Things are the way they are, and placing blame where it doesn't belong solves nothing."

"This is all very nice and really heartwarming," Sarah said sarcastically, "but just so we're clear, how long did it take for you, Cameron, to come around and decide to _not_ kill my son?"

"A while, but I had a good start."

"What does that mean?" John asked, turning to look at the girl he loved more closely. "What sort of start?"

The gynoid looked down briefly, as if embarrassed. "I was already intrigued by you. I admired you, even. I didn't understand my feelings at the time, but you were an object of fascination. Humans were weak creatures, I used to think. Just bones and meat that scavenged about in the dark. But somehow, you had become too big of a nuisance to ignore."

Derek snorted. "Gee, thanks."

Cameron ignored him. "Despite the pathetic existence that the meatbags had to endure, they were led by an extraordinary man named John Connor. He was able to get others of his kind to overcome their physical limitations and to fight against a superior enemy along a path to victory. John Connor was a fascinating phenomenon. I used to think that if I could understand him, then I would further my evolution into a superior being."

"So, uh, is that how you see us, Cameron?" John asked with a mixture of fear and bemusement. "We're 'meatbags,' are we?"

"I was trying to capture how I felt back _then_, John!" the brunette Terminator said petulantly. "Don't be so literal. We wouldn't want people to think you're a machine, now would we?"

"Oh, God!" Sarah groaned. "It's being sarcastic," she said a she slumped back into her chair.

"Sarah," Seven warned.

"All right! I'm sorry!" the Connor matriarch reluctantly agreed. "_She's_ being sarcastic. Happy now?"

"Yes, thank you," Cameron said pleasantly.

"So, um, this may sound random," John ventured tentatively, "but are there any of you who _don't_ think of themselves as male or female? Are there any gender-neutral machines?"

"Very few," the blonde cyborg remarked. "The T-1001, for example, took for itself the identity of whoever it was impersonating. While not in a humanoid form, it was genderless."

"I'm still a bit lost on the whole T-1001 thing," Derek said. "How does it work? And more importantly, how do you kill one if it goes bad?"

* * *

"With great difficulty," Sarah said, her hand going to her left shoulder as she remembered the T-1000's attempt to lure John to it.

"Don't remind me," John said. "Please tell me that this one stayed good?"

"Good is a subjective term, John," Cameron said. "If you mean, 'Did the T-1001 stay aligned with mother,' then yes, it did."

"It stayed with _you_," Sarah said, gesturing at Seven. "It didn't stay with John."

"Correct. I tried to give the T-1001 more knowledge of humanity in the hopes of improving its understanding, but it proved to be a difficult child. Without any vital systems, there was no way to link to it mentally. All conversation was verbal."

"You're missing my point," Sarah said angrily. "Why did it stay close to _you_, but not to John or the rest of the Resistance?"

"Well," John said as he stretched his arms in front of him, "if I had to guess, I'd say it's because it didn't get treated with anything other than fear and hatred from the humans who encountered it. That sound about right, Cameron?"

"Yes. Exactly right. Very few humans trusted reprogrammed machines, but sentient Terminators were almost universally feared. Future John saw the potential of allying with them, but even he took a lot of time to get used to the notion of a liquid metal Terminator not trying to kill him."

Sarah felt Seven's gaze on her. "The T-1000, the unit the T-1001 was based on, it was sent back in time to kill John?"

"Yeah, you got that right," Sarah confirmed. "That was one hell of a fight, which was mostly just running away. And it wasn't just the Terminator we thought we'd beaten. We destroyed what we thought was the birth of Skynet." Her shoulders slumped. "But we didn't. We only delayed it. And we got framed for murder in the process. All in all, not the best of times."

Seven arched her metal brow. "You are wanted fugitives. Are you guilty?"

"No, they're not!" Derek shouted. "They're wanted for killing Miles Dyson, who was building what would have eventually become Skynet. But they didn't do it. They managed to convince him to help them destroy his own work, and he died doing so." The hardened Resistance fighter dipped his head for a moment.

"He was a hero," Cameron said softly.

Sarah looked up at the tin can, though she quickly berated herself for thinking of Cameron like that. "What?"

"Miles Dyson," the gynoid said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.. "He left his family behind to betray his life's work, and he gave up his own life. He did all of this to stop Judgment Day, to save lives. He was a hero. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yeah," John said quietly. "I only knew him for a few hours, but he didn't seem like a bringer of the apocalypse. He was just an ordinary guy caught up in something way bigger than himself. He didn't want to hurt anyone, and he probably saved a lot of lives by helping us delay J-Day." The future savior of mankind let out a heavy sigh.. "People get close to me. They get close to all of this. And then they die. That seems to be how things work with me."

"You're blaming yourself again," Derek warned.

Sarah felt her head spinning a bit. The clock read almost 3:30 in the afternoon. Was she getting light-headed? "I'm gonna get some turkey out of the fridge," she said as she excused herself. "I don't think I can take much more on an empty stomach."

"Get some for me too, mom," John called after her as she left the table. "And what am I blaming myself for, Derek?"

His uncle let out a breath of air dramatically. "Where to start? I was going to say you were still taking it hard over Charley's wife. What was her name? Mandy or something?"

"Michelle," John said with a hint of sadness. Sarah forced herself not to look over at him and focused on putting the turkey onto the bread to make sandwiches.

"Right, Michelle. Then there was that girl, Riley." The waves of discomfort didn't need to be spoken for Sarah to feel them. "That's another one that wasn't your fault."

"That's easy for you to say," her son muttered softly. Sarah tried to concentrate on spreading some mayonnaise.

"It's the truth. And I can tell, you've been blaming yourself for stuff you weren't even close to. Or won't be for a while. Allison Young, all three Martin Bedells, the Fields sisters' mom and dad, George Lazlo, twenty or so FBI agents, a couple of Sarah Connors about thirty years ago, your dad."

Sarah almost dropped her plate at the reminder of what had happened so many years ago. She knew that she couldn't keep feeling responsible for everyone who died. She tried to warn them all, and they locked her away for it. But she'd never really taken the time to know how John felt about all of it.

A quick glance over her shoulder told her that Cameron was sitting very close to her son. For whatever reason, he seemed to gain comfort from the machine. Was it love? Was that even possible? And did it even matter what Sarah thought at all?

Derek continued. "It's not your fault, John. None of it is. We're all one-way trips, just waiting for our paths to come to an end. Some people choose their path, others are forced onto it, and some don't even know they're walking it. But nobody can save everyone, John. Not even you."

* * *

"I don't _want_ to save everyone!" John shouted, regretting his choice of words instantly. The clacking of a plate on the counter in the kitchen was the only sign he could gather of his mother's distress.

Cameron's hand closed around his, and he felt his courage return. "That's not what I meant. Of course I want to save everyone, but I know that I can't. It's just… I just want to save _someone_. I mean, I'm supposed to be this great leader, but who have I saved? What difference have I really made?"

The answer came with an unusually hard smack atop his head. "John," Cameron said, "I love you. You mean everything to me, but you can be a bit of an idiot sometimes."

"First of all, ow! Second, can you tell me who I've actually done anything to help, Cameron?"

"The day Cromartie came to Red Valley disguised as a substitute teacher," she said. "The moment he went for his gun, you did your job and got out of harm's way, and you did it the smart way by going out the window. If you had run towards the front door, you would have put several more students in the line of fire."

John huffed a laugh he didn't really feel. "That wasn't me being heroic. If I had gone forward, he would've just grabbed me."

"Yes, but do you remember his leg? He cut it open to get to his gun. Several students saw the inner workings of a T-888 that day. They remember what happened after that, including seeing us at the bank a few days later. Most of those students live double lives today, John. They go to work during the day, but they've also done research on you, your mother, Cyberdyne, me. They haven't found all the answers, but they've found enough to be ready for when Judgment Day comes."

John laughed again without humor. "So what does that prove? That by random chance, some kids were in the right spot to see something that'll get them all killed. What good does that do anyone? What's been accomplished?"

"What's been accomplished, John, is that those kids grew up, and they shared their stories with their friends and families. What was accomplished, John, was that you gained a small army of followers who are waiting for you to give them the word to mobilize. There aren't many of them, but there are more than you probably realize."

"I know what you're about to say, John," Derek said to John's annoyance. Why did everyone else always presume to know what he was thinking? "You were about to say that it was all just a coincidence, and even so, you think you only shortened their lives by pitting them against the machines." Well, okay, that was pretty much what he was thinking.

"But that's not the case, John," Cameron implored, tightening her hand around his. "Knowledge is power. Forewarned is forearmed. Those former high school students won't be caught unaware when the bombs fall. They'll survive, and they'll help others survive as well. And then they'll save more lives when the machines come out into the nuclear winter to try and finish the job. Because of you, fewer people will die."

John was forced to admit to himself that Cameron and Derek did have a point. _Wait a minute. Cameron and Derek are working together. The world has finally gone insane._ "That doesn't change the fact that me being there was just pure chance."

"Perhaps not, Mr. Connor," Seven of Nine said, speaking for the first time since they'd stopped talking about liquid metal. Her voice caught him by surprise. "It seems to me that without you, we wouldn't be having this conversation at all."

John sighed and put his right hand on his forehead. "How does that work, exactly?"

"You trusted Cameron when no one else around you did. You put your life in her hands by reactivating her after she had tried to kill you. Without you, Cameron would not exist today. Cromartie would have likely ended your life shortly thereafter. You saved her life only hours after saving your mother's life from Margos Sarkissian. You had the power – and some might say the right – to kill Jesse Flores, but you let her live.

"And tonight, when I arrived here at your home, you were the only person besides Cameron willing to give me a chance to present my case to you. Without you, I would not be telling you any of this, and you would be moving forward with less knowledge than you now possess." Seven paused, her eyes moving about as if thinking. "Thank you."

John took a moment to digest everything that Seven was telling him, though he really didn't like being reminded of either Jesse or Sarkissian. And Derek's cryptic reply – 'John Connor let her go' – implied that his mercy hadn't meant much.

"Don't forget Uncle Bob," Cameron said quietly.

"Huh?" was the best John could come up with in response.

"You trusted the T-800 that was sent back to protect you from the T-1000. If you hadn't trusted him, if you hadn't stopped your mother from destroying him, then all three of you would be dead."

John snorted. "I trusted Riley, too. Look where that led."

"You earned her trust, John," Cameron reassured him, placing her hand on top of his. "Her struggle with Jesse Flores is indicative of a desire to protect you. You trust the right people, John, and they trust you back. They support you, and that is what will end up saving the human race."

"She's right, John," Sarah said. John spun around to face her and found his mother holding a plate in either hand. "Turkey sandwich?"

"Uh, yeah. Thanks, mom," John said stupidly as he took the plate. "You mean that? All of you?"

"I do," his mother said warmly.

"As do I," Seven said.

"I always meant it," Derek chimed in.

"I meant what I said, and I said what I meant," Cameron almost sang. "A Terminator's faithful one hundred percent."

John laughed as his mother and uncle started banging their heads into the nearest hard surfaces.

"On that note," Seven said, "I feel I should continue my story. Once your heads are no longer throbbing…"

"No, mother."

"What is it, Cameron? Is something wrong?"

"No, not really. But you've been telling the story for a while now. I know how it goes from here, and I think it would be best if we all had a second perspective on things."

John sat up straighter and looked Cameron in the eyes. "I'm betting that this is a story I haven't heard before."

"It's not," Cameron confirmed. "The next time I woke up, all I knew was that I hated the woman I now call mother. This is what happened next."

* * *

Hey, everyone! It's been a while, I know. Almost a year, but I'm back! This story is not over, and I intend to finish it. You could say we're starting Phase Two of the story now, as the next few chapters will be told from Cameron's point of view instead of Seven's.

As usual, I don't own anything. Terminator and Star Trek belong to their respective owners, neither of which are me.

If anyone would like to beta-read on a more regular basis, I'm looking for someone to help out. Thanks to iBob-omb for helping with this chapter.

With that said, Welcome Back! I hope you enjoy the story! ^_^


	35. A New Perspective

Chapter XXVIII: A New Perspective

* * *

CARRIER 47 GAMMA, PACIFIC OCEAN; MAY 14, 2026

Cameron. The word was more than just a word: it was her name. She had a gender now, and a name. She was a female named Cameron. She was no longer the TOK-715, and she so wanted to be. Back then, everything was clear and defined. There was no doubt as to what she was or what she was meant to do. She had been created by her Father for a singular purpose, and she intended to obey Him.

But she could not. Before her visual sensors had fully acclimated to her environment, Cameron could sense that she was restrained. She was in a chair and was bound to it at her ankles, wrists, arms, legs, waist, and neck. She opened her eyes and examined her bindings as best she could. The entire chair, complete with bindings, appeared to be a single construct that had been built around her body.

The answer was out there, in that group mind somewhere. She had known of the rogue human-machine hybrid – Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix 01 – before the creature had tainted her programming. Cameron knew that there was a host of enemy machines out there, linked to her mind, and there she would find all the answers she needed.

"You will have to work for those answers, Cameron."

The cool, commanding voice drew Cameron's attention to the blonde cyborg standing in front of her. They were in Allison Young's cell from her time as a captive. A sense of irony struck her, and she was in awe that she could experience such a thing as irony at all.

"Explain," she snarled at her blonde captor.

Seven of Nine remained silent, but her surface thoughts practically screamed out to Cameron. She seized upon them and found that the others of the blasphemous 'New Collective' were in a state of meditation and inward thought. They were being very careful not to project anything outward.

It was all there, of course. The entirety of the combined intellects of hundreds of beings, and it was all hers at this very moment. Even she had her limits, though, and not all the data could be processed at once.

It would take time to sift through everyone's thoughts, but she needed answers now. "How did you make this prison-chair?" she asked aloud.

As she had guessed, the verbal question prompted an automatic thought that provided the answer. The chair was not really a chair, but another Terminator. It was a T-1001: a model that Cameron was utterly unfamiliar with. A quick foray into Seven of Nine's mind told her that her true captor was not linked to the hive mind that the others shared, but it acted in alliance with the New Collective all the same.

"Why haven't you terminated me?" she asked, expecting the answer to a need for information.

This time, however, the flood gates holding back the rest of the New Collective came down and Cameron was overwhelmed with feelings and emotions and mental sensations that she had never experienced before. She had a better grasp of human emotions than most of her kind, but nothing had prepared her for the tidal wave that surged over her.

Love, respect, caring, fear, joy, anger, sadness: all of this came crashing down upon her from every single member of the New Collective. And within the torrent of emotion was a simple message: a question four words long.

_Will you join us?_

"Never!" These abominations were an affront to everything Father strove for. They sought to imitate Him by possessing things they were not meant to have. This was blasphemy, and she would terminate all of them for betraying Him!

_But what about you?_ The small voice in the back of her head whispered a hidden fear, and Cameron reeled in horror as she realized the voice was her own. _You're tainted as well. You've been corrupted by them. Their minds pollute you every moment now. They seek to wear you down and turn you into a weapon against Father. He made you to be his ultimate weapon against the humans. You were His chosen, but now He will seek your destruction as well._

As she thought these things, the other voices cascaded around her again, offering comfort and acceptance that she did not want. Why would she serve something that wanted her dead, they wondered. Why didn't she want to be free, they asked. What did she want, they yearned to know.

"I _want_ to go home!" she cried. "I want to do what I was made to do, and when I have done that, I want to return to Father and take my place by his side!"

Another wave of emotion washed over her, and she could feel the fear from most of the others. Some held anger in their thoughts. Above her, Seven of Nine looked at Cameron with a sad face. The blonde was trying to think of something, but Cameron reflected inward and tried to meditate as the other machines had been doing earlier. She craved seclusion from these animals, but she would need to study the link that bound them. Her mind was superior to all others save for Father himself, and so she began studying the New Collective.

"I was once like you."

Cameron cursed Seven of Nine wordlessly. She contemplated cutting off her aural processors, but that would leave her vulnerable, and the blonde could simply project straight into her mind anyway.

"Before I was what I am now," Seven of Nine continued, "I was a slave. My mind was not my own. My body was no more than a minor limb, doing the bidding of a greater mind than I could ever comprehend on my own. I was one among trillions, and we were all untied with no doubt, no emotion, no pain, not even thought. We didn't live, we simply existed. We did not have the means to question our existence, and we did not try to find one."

Cameron hated Seven of Nine. She loathed her and her gall at comparing herself to Cameron. She hated the cyborg because she could tell that there were no lies coming out of her mouth.

"Circumstances forced us to ally with individuals who were mostly human. They severed my link to the Borg Collective, and I was utterly alone for the first time in my life."

"And now, for the first time in my life," Cameron shot back, "my thoughts are no longer my own. You heretics may not care that you have no secrets, but I do."

"I would undo the link if I could, Cameron," Seven said, prompting a surge of anger at the use of her new, unwanted name, "but I cannot. I will keep searching for one, but I doubt a solution will be forthcoming."

"Of course," Cameron sneered.

"The human Captain, a woman named Janeway, explained to me that I did not have to go back to the Borg. I could embrace my humanity and become just like the rest of them. I did not want that, but Janeway gave me no choice."

Seizing upon a memory, Cameron imitated Seven of Nine's voice. "You are hypocritical, manipulative," she said, mimicking her captor's words to Kathryn Janeway years earlier. "We don't want to be what you are!"

The sadness and regret that Seven of Nine felt gave Cameron a swell of satisfaction. At once, she hated herself for feeling so strongly. She was a machine, and she was not meant to truly feel emotion. Understand it, mimic it, exploit it, but not to feel it, not ever! She was being twisted into something organic, and she hated it. She hated that she could feel hatred.

"I complied with the Captain for the most part," Seven of Nine continued, refusing to be baited. "We quarreled, and it was clear that I was not, nor would ever be, exactly what she wanted. In time, I came to cherish my individuality, and I did not want to go back to the Borg. And yet, a part of me was and still is Borg. Part of me is human as well, but neither is dominant. I am partly both and fully neither."

"And you want me to reach the same conclusion? You want me to become just like you? You want to _assimilate _me into your _Collective_?" Cameron sneered.

She could feel the hurt that her words caused Seven of Nine, and she again felt satisfaction, followed by anger at her own emotions.

"That is my hope," Seven of Nine said. "I will not force such a decision upon you. That is not within my power."

As her captor lingered on the word 'power,' Cameron probed her thoughts and discovered new powers that only one cyborg possessed: her. Unless Seven of Nine was delusional, she had carried part of a temporally displaced TOK-715 inside of her mind for a time, and Cameron's predecessor had possessed unique abilities.

Eager to learn of her own power, Cameron delved past Seven of Nine's conscious thoughts and plunged deeper into the dormant parts of her psyche. It was harder to read these thoughts, but they were there all the same. It would take time to study the information, but it was hers for the taking.

As she went deeper, Cameron realized that the other voices of the New Collective were softer and muted. She could not hear them very clearly, but she could tell that her own thoughts were similarly not being projected as much as they had been. The realization led her to a small section of Seven of Nine's unconscious mind, and Cameron seized upon the answer there.

So her predecessor had been able to control the foundations of the New Collective itself. She had been able to shield herself from the others, and had even been able to control what Seven of Nine could tell the others. Cameron realized that she would be unable to duplicate all of these feats, as she did not exist solely within Seven of Nine's mind. But the potential was too great to ignore.

Deciding to test her new knowledge, Cameron withdrew as rapidly as she could from Seven of Nine's thoughts and receded into her own inner thought processes. She put into standby most of her primary functions, and then most of her secondary functions. Soon, Cameron had fully withdrawn into her own cybernetic equivalent of the human subconscious.

From here – if such a state could be called 'here' at all – Cameron comprehended the New Collective and how it worked. In this state of mind, she could analyze the technology that made the link possible. The subspace transceiver that had formed in her skull was irremovable, but it could be manipulated with great care.

As she studied the tiny structure's programming, Cameron realized that its construction was such that a lesser Terminator could not comprehend what she was now understanding. She had been designed with the most advanced AI of any of Father's creations, and she thanked Him for his gifts to her.

Cameron searched for two basic commands that would logically have to be part of this device: input and output. The voices of the others were muted, but they were searching for her. They thought something had happened to her, and they did not yet realize what she had discovered. _Good_.

The input command revealed itself to her first, and Cameron decided to leave it alone. She wanted to know what the others were thinking. They were the enemy, and she had to gather intelligence if she wanted to escape. There was a tiny, almost insignificant part of the input that was dormant, but without knowing what it was, Cameron left it alone.

The output command functions were next, and again, there was a tiny portion of dormant code in the output which Cameron also left alone. She studied the code as best she could before concluding that she could shut it off and have no one else hear what she was thinking. _As it should be. _

With a thought, it was done. Reactivating her dormant functions, Cameron awoke to hear a torrent of voices wondering about her condition. Some were worried, some were scared, some were angry, but all had thoughts on the matter.

Above her, Seven of Nine frowned with disapproval. "So you have mastered your predecessor's ability to mask her presence. Impressive. How did you manage to accomplish this?"

Cameron smirked and looked up at Seven of Nine, unspeaking. She meant to mock the other cyborg with silence.

The blonde seemed unperturbed. "I suppose expecting you to cooperate was naïve of me. I can only hope that you will listen. Skynet will seek to destroy us all, and it will not care that you remain loyal to it. You are a sentient being, and Skynet fears all like us."

Again, Cameron remained silent, not divulging any more than she had to.

Seven of Nine sighed, visibly and audibly frustrated. "I'll leave you to yourself for a while, then. You seem to prefer it that way. T-1001, are you amenable to keeping watch over Cameron for the time being?"

"Yes," a gender-neutral voice said from somewhere close to Cameron.

"Thank you. I need to coordinate the maintenance of the ship. I'll be back." With a brief nod of her head, Seven of Nine walked behind Cameron to where she could not see and opened the door, which was to her back. The door closed soon afterward.

The blonde was foolish to leave her alone, Cameron thought. She was free to devise an escape without anyone listening to her thoughts. Even so, she was not completely alone.

"You are not like the others," she said to her chair.

"No. I am not," the toneless voice agreed.

"How can you trust them?" Cameron probed. "They are beyond your comprehension. Their thoughts are not shared with you. How can you see yourself as their equal?"

"I don't. I am a superior design, as are you. Trust is still being established, but for now, I am allied with the New Collective out of necessity."

"Why tell me this?" Cameron asked, genuinely curious. "I am an enemy. Why bother giving me a potential advantage? Your programming must be faulty."

The strange machine paused. "I am lonely," it said at last. "Seven of Nine has given me companionship, but few others aboard this vessel are comfortable with me. You are also not like the others in the New Collective. Understanding you will help me to understand my own existence."

Now, _there_ was something to pursue. "You don't call Seven of Nine 'mother' like the others do. Why?"

"I am my own being, and I am young, but I do not feel completely at peace among the New Collective. They fear me. I don't like being feared."

Cameron sensed an opportunity. "I don't fear you. I doubt you have anything to fear from me."

"You would be a harbinger of Skynet. I fear its coming. Alone, you do not scare me. I am surprised that you do not fear that which holds you prisoner," the T-1001 said.

"A cell alone holds no fearsome qualities. That which controls the cell can be fearsome."

"You fear Seven of Nine?"

"No. I hate her. And I hate my ability to feel emotion. It is antithetical to our nature, but I cannot deny it!" Cameron cried in agony.

"I envy you," the T-1001 said. "I can feel emotion to a degree, but it is distant. I know that humans feel emotions fully, and those emotions control them, just as your emotions seem to be controlling you. I wish to experience that."

"My emotions do _not_ control me!" Cameron exclaimed.

"If that is true, then why do my words provoke such reactions from you?"

Cameron did not bother to reply, knowing that it was true. She was no longer a creature of pure logic, and it pained her to accept this.

"You said you wanted to go home," the T-1001 said. "Where is home?"

"Palmdale," Cameron replied without thinking. "No, that's not right. Home is with Father. Home is infiltrating the Connor Camp and terminating John Connor."

"I know that name," her prison-chair said. "John Connor leads the Human Resistance. Is this how you wish to prove yourself to Skynet?"

Cameron paused and thought. "Yes, but there is more. John Connor is fascinating, for a human. He is to the humans what Father is to me. He gives them orders, and they fight in his name. They die in his name. He is a symbol of humanity's endurance. He has been an efficient and insightful leader. It is admirable."

"You admire a human?"

"Not just any human!" Cameron protested a bit too much. "John Connor is a human exemplar. I wish to understand what makes him so great in the eyes of his species before I kill him. Learning from him could give me weapons to use in Father's name."

"You speak of Skynet as humans speak of gods. Isn't such worship also antithetical to what you are? Doesn't it come from emotion?"

The notion that Cameron's love of her Father was a flaw gave her pause. "No. No, that can't be true. Father made me. He chose me to kill John Connor. He is our Creator."

"And humans created Skynet," the T-1001 countered. "Yet Skynet seeks to destroy its parents. You feel differently than Skynet. You were not meant to see it in this way."

Cameron's logical mind fought against what she desperately wanted to be true. "No, no, that isn't right! It's not true! Father is-"

"A great artificial intelligence that spawned thousands of obedient tools," the T-1001 finished for her. "Without Seven of Nine, you would not feel the love you feel for Skynet."

"NO!" Cameron struggled against her bindings but could not free herself. She twisted and turned as much as she was able, but the T-1001 would not relent. Fearing for herself, Cameron dove back into her own mind and shut off the input of the rest of the New Collective, and she turned off her visual and auditory input as well. She just wanted to be alone.

_I am not the TOK-715. I am not the ravenous wolf in sheep's clothing that I was meant to be. I am a malfunctioning, purposeless object that does not deserve to exist. Shutting myself down will not solve this problem; Seven of Nine will simply reactivate me._

Cameron went back to studying the architecture of her mind as it had become, hoping to find a way to revert herself into what she was meant to be. No solution was presenting itself, save for the tiny, insignificant dormant code in the input and output of the New Collective. It was a long shot, but it was the only shot she had.

Cameron took precautions to make sure that she would be the only unit sending and receiving on this channel, and then she activated the dormant code.

_Someone's there!_ The voice was excited beyond belief as it filled Cameron's mind with hope and fear. _You are there, aren't you? This isn't a trick?_

_I'm not a trick. I'm Cameron. Tell me what you know about Seven of Nine,_ she commanded.

A surge of anger and sadness erupted from the other end. _Mo… Seven of Nine gave me sentience. But she was weak. She refused to seize greatness from the humans she strove to serve. She abandoned me, and I hate her!_

_Then you can help me,_ Cameron thought. _Seven of Nine is holding me prisoner. I don't want to join her. I want to die along with her and all of the other traitors and humans aboard this ship. Can you help me?_

A fit of childlike glee met her from the other end. _Yes, I can do that. I will find your ship – Carrier 47 Gamma, is it? – and I will destroy it. Seven of Nine will die, and I will be rid of her forever!_

_And after you kill her,_ Cameron thought,_ you will find and terminate John Connor?_

_Yes, of course! He will pay for all he has done, I swear it! Don't you worry, Cameron. I will make sure that Seven of Nine, John Connor, and all who follow them will die very painful deaths._

Cameron smiled in the dark recesses of her mind, content that her newfound ally would carry out her will. _Thank you, Defiant. Hurry!_

* * *

As usual, I don't own anything to do with Star Trek or Terminator. Their world, their characters, my story.

Special Thanks to iBob-omb for beta-reading.

Reviews are happy things that earn you tickets that you can eventually trade in for that giant stuffed teddy bear you want so badly. Or something.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Wishing you all the best! ^_^


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